Night of the BloodRed Moon
by Lady of chaos and tragedy
Summary: College girl Corrine Braxton has another secret identity, one that involves claws, fur and fangs. By day she's the blonde philosophy major with a hot pre-med boyfriend, but her alter ego is about to discover the dark Underworld of lycans & vampyres... Lucian/OC
1. Chapter 1

My heart beats loud in my chest, and I take the corner at a flat-out sprint, the claws of my front paws raking large, deep furrows into the alley's cracked cement as I dig in and spin, swinging my hind legs around and gathering myself to launch a dozen feet forward in my new direction. I don't get a chance to complete the leap. Something hard and hooked and sharp slices into my side, and I feel claws scrape off the bones of my ribcage like piano keys, tearing through muscle and sinew and scattering ragged strips of beautiful long white-silver fur across the alley street.

* * *

There is a war. One that humans have not been aware of. It is fought in your streets, it haunts your cities, and though you will not admit it even to yourselves, it is the reason you fear the dark.

It has raged for a thousand years, and still the ones who were there at its beginning are refusing to allow it an end. Because vampyres and lycans, you see, can live for an eternity- as will their desire to fight.

My people, as the rest of the underworld, have known of this war. We've watched it from distances safe and measured; it is not our place to interfere. The Elders of our kind explained, the children of Corvinus must settle their own affairs. They are young yet, two races created falsely, a variation, a perversion of nature. Because of their infectious method of reproduction they vastly outnumber us, and so we have chosen to keep our existence secret. They are not so wise as their ancestors the Nephilim, children of Heaven; not so patient as their forefathers the Daemons, children of Hell; and not so pure as we, their cousins, the children of Earth. Our kind has been here since time immemorial, and we will still thrive long after Corvinus' seed have rid mother earth of their tainted strain.

Or so I used to believe…. So very long ago…

* * *

I turn on my attacker, my high yelp of pain being drowned out by the deep rumbling growls and high-pitched snarls echoing through the area. The snap of my jaws as I attempt to repay my attacker in kind is like a loud click in the seething atmosphere. I turn, tucking the bushy mass of my tail behind me as I crouch down, dropping my hindquarters and spacing my front paws wide apart in the familiar attacking stance I've used since I could crawl. My nose dips down to the ground and wrinkles as I bare my white teeth, waiting for the larger creatures to come close enough for me to get under their chin and go for the throat. I'm cornered, and I know I probably wont survive, but damn me to hell if I don't take somebody else with me.

One of the lycans lunges towards me from the left, and I swing to meet him, my gaze locked on his exposed jugular- but another comes at me from the right as I turn, his claws catching painfully under my belly, and my body is flung high into the air. There's a sickening crunch as my shoulder connects with the alley's brick wall, and I hit the ground on my back, my jaws open in a silent howl. I don't get up. I can feel them, surrounding me, converging on their fallen quarry. I flashback to my last hunt with the pack. I know the thrill of working together to bring down prey, and the excitement in the moment when it has ceased to struggle, the anticipation in the seconds before your teeth sink deeply into warm, moist flesh and you feel the strength and the satisfaction of being the winner in a battle for life and death. I suppose I never did think about how it feels from the prey's point of view. Payback's a goddamn Bitch. From my place on my back I can see the moon, and it gives me a small measure of comfort. I know that somewhere this night a song of grief will be sung to it for me. I close my eyes and sigh. I can feel the warmth of the Lycans' breath on my battered skin.

"Stop!"

Incredibly, at the sound of the rough, hard voice, the lycans reluctantly halt their advance on me. I stay frozen, waiting to feel at any second the ripping and tearing of a half a dozen sets of razor sharp fangs sinking themselves into my alluringly fresh and bleeding body. I can hear their residual growling and their breath, panting with exertion. And then another sound, human footfalls, wending their way carefully through the large, furred bodies of the lycan monstrosities. Randomly curious, I crack one eye open. The faint, blurry image of a man enters my vision. I blink twice in an attempt to focus. His head blocks out my view of the moon. He looks totally pissed off as he looks down at me.

"What the hell have you done?" Without turning his gaze from me, he addresses the lycans in a low, quiet, ice cold tone that makes me shiver. "Leave us."

" Ragnor!" He turns to bark the name over his shoulder in the same harsh voice that gave me a short reprieve, and another man appears above me. "Get them the hell back to base and get Arnon up here. I don't care what she did."

He moves to bend over me, and I make a superhuman effort to lift my head and follow his movements as his hands go to trace my open wounds. _Fucking hell. _With a jolt I realize that I'm back in my human female form, my weakened body not able to hold its wolf shape. My naked body is splayed out unattractively and bloodily. Shit. And then suddenly modesty seems horribly unimportant. The final lingering effects of shock rid themselves of my system, and the pain comes crashing down on me in ten thousand waves. I'm not the suffer-in-silence type, and I make a valiant attempt to scream, but all that's left in my lungs is enough for a short, sharp gasp. The man beside me makes a soft, absent-minded shushing sound, and I pass out quietly, and gratefully

* * *

While I'm unconscious, my mind runs through memories and thoughts the way water moves through a riverbed. I wanted my beautiful home in the cold, frozen tundra. I wanted to be surrounded by the scents and sounds of my pack, my family.

I am Corrine Braxton. I'm a smart, spunky, blonde, attractive (if I do say so myself), young philosophy student at Berkeley. I'm twenty years old. I've got midterms, finals, a roommate and a boyfriend who's pre-med. I like Evanescence, ACDC and Michael Buble.

I am going to stay twenty years old as long as I live- which might very well be forever. Sometimes I turn into a large silvery-white wolf with light blue eyes and huge white fangs. I'm a daughter of the moon. I'm part of the bloodline which has always held the leadership of my pack. I'm young and impulsive, and, stupidly, I chose one night to follow a scent that led me right into a lycan lair, which of course led to me being chased through the city streets, brutally mauled, and finally fortunately saved by _the _Lycan himself. Oh sure, I recognized Lucian. We might not take part in the vampyre/lycan dispute, but we do know the key players. Well, not all of us do, but since the untimely death of my parents my uncle Mathias has made sure that I've been properly educated.

* * *

When I came to I was laid out on a stretcher in a cold, damp, dank underground chamber that was filled with the rotting scent of death and old blood and decay. A light sheet covered my undamaged lower half, but left the gaping wounds on my chest and abdomen exposed. The pain came back in the first few seconds, but it was lesser, detached somehow. I knew this was a bad sign, it meant that my spirit was slowly leaving my body and its physical weaknesses behind. I could feel somebody poking and prodding me, and felt the presence of another standing by my head.

"Well, I cannot say for certain. These injuries are very serious, but I cannot tell their full effects if I do not understand exactly what she is. They say she made a transformation, but I clearly she is not one of us… For a human these wounds would be fatal, for lycan or vampire, devastating. And she does not appear to be healing…"

"Well of course I'm not, you idiot." My voice came out rusty and I licked my lips, trying to swallow. Someone slipped a hand around my neck, lifting my head up, and a tin cup was pressed against my lips. I could smell the water, and I took a mouthful. My head was laid back again, and I tried again to speak, prying my eyes open slowly. "I've got your kind's filthy blood and spit poisoning my system, haven't I?"

I looked up, my eyes lighting first on Lucian, (no, he didn't look even marginally happier), and then I managed to pin the weasely old physician with what I hoped was a convincing death-glare, but the edges of my vision were tinged with gray and I felt at any moment ready to pass out again, so I probably wasn't very scary. In fact, far from being intimidated, ol' doc jones there started to lean over me excitedly.

"Really? You know that our blood is a poison to you?"

"Well, the burning and itching does give a kind of clue, yeah." I was horribly rasping, and my entire torso was throbbing with a hot, relentless pain. I took a deep breath, which was incredibly stupid, because a wave of agony hit me and my breathing hitched, sending me into a long, racking coughing session. Randomly, Lucian reached over to help, his hand sliding through my filthy, matted hair to cradle my neck and turn my face to the side, so I didn't choke on my own blood. I'm not sure why he bothered, I was clearly already in the throes of a final death-rattle.

"What _are_ you?" The creepy doctor asked, his wrinkled face getting scarily close to mine, and something like reverence and awe in his heavily-accented voice. I coughed a few more times and spit out an impressive mouthful of half-congealed blood which dripped heavily to the floor and left my lips streaked red.

"I'm a real version of what you all only pretend to be." I wheezed, and tried my goddamn hardest to put some venom in my rasp. "I'm a damn werewolf, you half-wit."

I started to cough again. I could feel the force of it rattling my bones. Each heave tore at my ragged, clawed body, and I bit down a scream and turned it into a low, keening whine. Not because I was trying to be brave, honest, just because it took more pain and effort and breath to scream than not to. Lucian pulled back a tendril of crusty blonde hair that had fallen in my face, and I tried to roll one bloodshot eye in his direction to convey a little bit of thanks. What I saw in his eyes took me back a little. It was guilt and horror and sadness all rolled into one- it was terrible. I had to think again. It really didn't fit with the rest of my experience with the lycan world. But that didn't really matter. For the second time that night I was a few seconds away from dying. I decided to see if I could play on some of that guilt and sadness.

"Hey," My voice was a whisper, but it was audible. "Do you really want to help me?"

"Of course." A small furrow creased between his eyebrows, and he moved to smooth the hair from my face again. It was weirdly soothing, being comfort from a lycan while I was dying of lycan wounds and all.

"Then take me outside…" I unexpectedly had to blink back tears. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I needed to see the moon, to give my spirit its best chance at a clear shot to the heavens, instead of being trapped in this black hole of an underground cavern. "Please?"

To his credit, he didn't protest or argue with me. Or maybe that was just a sign of how pathetic I was- not even a lycan could refuse me my dying wish. He pulled the sheet up to my neck, the touch of it feather-light but still remarkably painful. When he picked me up the movement ripped at my injuries and I couldn't stop the little cry that used up the last of my breath. I closed my eyes.

By all rights I should have died right then, and maybe I did. But when I felt the rays of moonlight touch my skin I just had to open my eyes again, dead or not, to drink in its beautiful sight one last time. It was gorgeous, huge and luminous. The sky itself seemed clearer and cleaner. I realized that we must be away from the lights and smog of the city. Blinking I moved my head slightly from where it rested (quite comfortably, actually), on Lucian's shoulder. I could see the blurry outline of trees, and now that I listened for them I could hear the soft night sounds of a forest. Hell if I know how we got there, but I was sure grateful.

We were in a small, attractive clearing that was surrounded on three sides by forest and the fourth faced a large out cropping of rock, behind which I could hear the soft tinkling sounds of running water. The entire atmosphere was so perfect, so peaceful that it (and also partly the fact that I was a hair's breadth away from dying) left me drugged with sleepy blissful satisfaction. This was a place to breathe your last. From here I could easily abandon the physical restraints of my battered and broken body… from here I would leave the earth behind and float gently up on the invisible wings of a thousand angels bearing me gently from this life to the-

"If you were to survive this night, what would you need?"

I opened my peacefully closed eyes a crack and peered up at Lucian's face, annoyed at his interruption of my death. It seemed to be becoming a habit of his.

"A damn miracle." I rasped. The corner of Lucian's mouth seemed to lift just the tiniest of fractions.

"Yes, well, aside from that."

I blew out a breathe and tried to think. It hurt to think. "Blood, of course.." I swallowed and tried to remember, "And, the members of the pack….they'd all..come together.. Lick the wounds… sing healing songs.." My voice ran out, and the gray edges of my vision seemed to be coming together, blacking out my sight of anything at all. I couldn't hear anything anymore. My world was black and cold, but peaceful, and heavenly pain-free. I breathed out a soft sigh of relief, and readied my soul for its next journey…. And then the scent hit my nostril like a slap in the face and my eyes flew open, although I saw only darkness. It was delicious, mesmerizing, drugging- the scent I'd followed earlier that day- the scent of blood rich and sweet and intoxicating. A drop of it fell on my tongue, the taste exploding in my mouth sweet and spicy and warm. For a second I thought I must have passed over to the next and this was my first reward… and then my vision came back and I saw the moon's pale glow and his slit wrist held above me. My eyes widened in horror and I tried to turn away, but my fangs had already run out and my instincts cried to feed.. And another crimson drop of liquid nirvana fell on my lips. I bit his arm savagely, tearing to increase the flow of sweet blood to my mouth and feeling the ecstasy of it running down my parched, burning throat. The taste and feeling are not things easily described, except to say it is the perfect blending of pain and lust, desire, pleasure and greed. I revelled in the return of life and spirit for endless precious seconds- and then the pain burst through my head like a blinding white light at the backs of my eyes.

**A/N this is a random little ficlet that I (literally) dreamt up one night after a long vampire/werewolf book and movie marathon involving (of course) lots and lots of chocolate; that delicious aphrodesiac created by nature and perfected by man. Anyway, in the story you'll probably find lots of paralells and ideas sampling many different storylines... my subconcious apparently loves to mix the best of all worlds. And besides, it is almost totally impossible to come up with anything original anymore. Even f you do manage to create something all on your own its inevitable that someone else already dreamt it up as well. **

**So, my dears, review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hey guys, new chappie. 2010's comin' up! woot! **

**Oh, btw, special thanks and shoutout to The Obsidian Ink for my one and ONLY review... *HINT* *HINT*... really guys, the only reason we put these stories up is for some feedback! even if you don't heart it, share an opinion, dears.**

* * *

Chapter 2 - Binding Contract

* * *

I snarled at the blinding flash- my own instinctive and savage reaction to the frustrating and inhuman onset of more pain in my already shattered & tenderized state; WAS ENOUGH NOT ENOUGH, ALREADY! Sigh.

But the truth is that I'm not human, I'm built to be able to handle whatever I need to handle, and my mind had already started to compartmentalize the agony into a separate little corner, the way I had learned to so very long ago, leaving me deliciously and terribly free to simultaneously writhe in distress and experience the paralyzing horror of what all else was going on.

Because he still had me attached to his arm like a leech, and I was kinda sorta laying half-in and out of his lap, I felt Lucian's body jerk and stiffen when the white hot flash of the connection doubled back, and I felt a kind of spark of awareness at the corner of my consciousness, and then I knew for certain that it was done, and I knew that he was seeing and feeling the same things that I was. I spared a second of sympathy for him, as I would for anyone forced into sharing my suffering, (especially me, damn it), but only a quick second, 'cause I learned more about him, then, and my problems seemed pretty damn trivial.

* * *

The first thing we saw, and they say the first is the most significant, scared the freakin' hell out of me. It was the memory of Lucian's first Change, the first time the moon claimed his soul. It'd happened when he was six. He was in a small, dark, dank cell, like a cage. He'd felt trapped, and the rising of the moon set his skin was on fire- anger flooded through him, and hunger. The bloodlust. The monster had emerged, and he'd fed on humans, his fellow slaves, unable to run and hunt under the moon. This especially terrified me. There's nothing worse for the loup-garou than captivity. It eats away at our souls, and drives us mad. I realized he'd spent most of his life that way.

The second vision was of me. It was the night of my rite of passage. Every loup-garou has to pass a test as an adolescent to prove their skill and importance to the pack. I'd had to hold a bar of pure silver between my sharp canine teeth for an entire minute. You think that doesn't sound like a lot of time, you wait until your lips melt, your tongue turns to a bloody burning mess and your gums start to smoke. I almost whimpered again at the memory, watching myself as a gawky pup, eyes squeezed shut and tail tucked as blood dripped slowly to smear a crimson river across the white snow at my feet.

The vision of me blurred then, shifting, and morphing in a smoky haze. It cleared, and again focused on me. I was running with the pack, the silvery-white of my coat glinting against the snow in stark contrast with the many gray, brindled, black, brown, cinnamon and russet coats of my pack members. We sang to our Mother, the moon. We hunted, we killed, we played.

We were at the castle again. I sensed it was a castle. A single face showed itself over and over throughout. I sensed the identity of the vampire the same way I sensed our location. Viktor. Through the skewed perception of memory he seemed warped, twisted, unspeakably evil. Always a darkness surrounded him. I watched Lucian battle him; I felt the rage and fury, the vicious satisfaction of every blow landed and the determination that grew with every blow taken. His joy was mine when I felt the blade sink into Viktor's open mouth, breaking through jaw and throat and penetrating the base of his skull. It was an awful, vindictive pleasure, but I revelled in it.

I watched with fascination as Sonja won his heart. I admired her strength and beauty. I cried as she burned.

I was myself again, sitting in a circle of other pups on the floor of the large, brightly lit cave. We were listening intently as the Elder Shiquena explained to us, in her ancient and melodic voice, the power of the mating bond. As she explained she pointed occasionally to paintings done on the cave walls. We must take great care selecting a mate. The bond, once forged, could only be broken by the death of one at the hands of the other.

This went on for an interminable length of time, until a freaking dizzying amount of information was shared between us; right down to my bra size, my secret fantasy of a roomful of life-sized Brad Pitt statues made of chocolate, and my ridiculous (and huge) childhood crush on Balto. Hey, he was supposed to be part wolf, right? Why not, I ask?

Through it all I had made a valiant attempt to retain some of the more vital bits of information. I knew that the more I knew about Lucian, the better prepared I'd be for the days ahead. Days, weeks, months, years, decades, possibly even centuries and millennia. But when it came right down to it, (and I do freely blame my recent proximity to death), I hadn't the mental capacity. As a matter of fact, the whole damn thing seemed like some huge nightmare. I was weak, and borderline delirious. When it finally stopped, and I found myself back in my own mind, I blinked open my eyes. I seemed to view the world through the blurry goggles of drunkenness. Oh well, my foggy mind reasoned, if it was a nightmare, might as well make the best of it. Without really thinking about it, I finally loosened my grip on Lucian's arm, and started to lick at the wound, which had stopped bleeding some time ago, but was still raw and fresh. The feel of my tongue seemed to shock him out of his reverie, and he glanced down at me. I vaguely registered the weight of his confusion and frustration lapping at my senses.

"What the hell was that?"

His voice sounded rough and strained. At least, I think it did. My mind was busily slipping away to the land of cotton candy clouds, fairies, and Brad Pitt candy shops. But, just in case he had really spoken, and it wasn't all a bad dream, I decided to make an attempt to explain.

"Well," I said dreamily between licks, "I think you'd better kill me now."

"What?"

This time he sounded eerily calm, and almost polite. I blinked up through glazed eyes and smiled with what I was sure was a winning charm. He told me later that my words slurred and I looked certifiably nuts.

"Oh, yeah," I slurred, "You would if you knew what was good for you. Otherwise you're gonna go slowly, like, cuckoo. And I don't mind, 'slong as you do it know, 'cause I owe you one, and I was already ready to.."

"You're not making any sense." The words came out it a low growl, and I felt his fingers grip my shoulders and he shook me.

"Ow!" I protested, pouting out my lower lip like a spoilt little child. "That is no way to treat your mate!"

I giggled then, and I think I hiccupped. And then I passed out. Again. Dammit.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N whats up, my dears? Yes, I am alive! Sorry dearhearts, for the delay.**

* * *

Aidan turns his curly brown head towards me. He smiles his perfect, sexy white smile, deepening the dimple in his left cheek. He catches me when I run into his arms laughing, my bookbag falls on the grass beside us, scattering the leaves that have fallen from the colorful trees on campus. Aidan smoothes my hair back from my face, and kisses me.

And then I wake up.

* * *

My sense of smell came to life first, bringing to me the stale scent of mildew. It was dank, mouldy. The steady drip, drip-drip, drip of water came to my ears. The air was cool, and the hard metal thing I lay on feels icy against my bare skin.

I sat up, one hand clutching to my chest the single light sheet that was covering me. Pain and stiffness coursed through my body. I pass a hand over my face, and open my eyes. They felt gritty, dry.

"You're awake."

I froze at the sound of the voice, deep gravely and male. A shiver part creeps and part cold ran down my spine. I blinked, my eyes focusing through the gloom to a shadowed figure slouched in the corner. I was in some sort of lab/ evil creepy operating room, sitting on a cold metal body tray. The shadowy corner figure perked up.

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

That was a good question. I groaned.

I remembered, and really wished I didn't.

Taking my groaning protest as an affirmation, shadowy guy leaned forward, bringing his face into the pitiful light from the single bare bulb hanging above me. Lucian, looking like he hadnt slept in a few months. His face cold, calculating and predatory.

"Good. Would you care to EXPLAIN a few things?"

I most certainly wouldnt. I felt the force of his alpha male willpower in his words and dropped my head accordingly, using my bangs to hide my eyes while I studied my surroundings. The room was underground, no windows, it was large and filled with ominous surgical equipment, vials and sciency stuff Aidan would know but I had no names for. Lucian was sitting in the corner by the only door. Whether he'd placed himself there to keep others out or keep me in I didn't know. But figured probably both.

Lucian stood, coming towards me in a swish of long coat and supernatural power. My heart thumped in my ears and my hands went cold but I kept my head down and my eyes on his approaching feet, slanting sideways every few seconds to the door and my freedom. I didn't speak.

"Tell me your name." He came to a stop at the foot of the table. "Corrine?"

I was off the table, wolf, and sprinting for the door in 2.5 seconds. Shifting on the run at any time is difficult, I felt the tear on my side pull open again, but adrenaline gave me speed and surprise slowed Lucian down.

* * *

There were no scary-ass lycan guards standing sentry on the other side of the doorway. Thank the gods for small favors. I zig zagged through the maze of tunnels, using preternatural speed in high gear, following my nose and the elusive scent of fresh air. I heard running footsteps behind me, but it didnt seem as though Lucian was trying too hard to catch up. As I spun noisily around one last corner, my claws scraping loudly for purchase against the stone floor, I realized why. And found myself in a big antechamber filled to the brim with the dirty, rank, size double x-large bodies of about two dozen male lycans.

I froze midstride, two paws in the air while I took in the sight, and immediately dropped to the floor nose down, tail tucked, presenting the smallest least threatening target I could. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for massive amounts of pain, my sides heaving and my breath coming in shallow terrified pants.

Nothing happened. No pain, no movement, no sound except steady breathing... and, snoring? I flicked an ear and cautiously opened my eyes. Yep. Snoring. Two dozen huge bad-ass scary monsters sleeping soundly on ratty cots and chairs and the floor. Sweet merciful heaven, I breathed a sigh of relief. Somewhere my beautiful guardian angels were working serious overtime, hopefully earning themselves a raise.

Alcohol was spilled everywhere, along with the smell of urine and vomit. But somewhere clean air was wafting in, and a small patch of sunlight fell on the floor in the far corner. I stood slowly, and my eyes searched the area.

There! Up by the mouldy brick ceiling in the far right corner was a nasty, filthy barred window with a broken section of glass. The hole was far too small for a lycan to pass through, and the bars too narrowly spaced. But my wolf self might fit...

Moving quickly but more carefully than a neurosurgeon in the operating room, I picked my way across the lycan-strewn floor. My paw slipped on something wet, and I tried desperately not to speculate about what it might be. I stepped gingerly across the torso of an ugly redheaded man with a huge scar that disfigured the right half of his face. a snore ripped from him, and I froze, my heart in my chest. I was doing a lot of freezing tonight. The man rolled over, and I hopped quickly sideways and waited; but after a second of snuffling he fell silent again. God, if I ever got out of here, I was going back to pack spiritual meeting.

There, almost to the exit. A rickety stack of boxes sat underneath the window, and a shitty table with a broken TV and a mess of beer bottles and ashtrays beside that. Gingerly, I jumped up on the table. My back paw knocked a bottle, and I whirled in an attempt to catch it in my teeth, but only succeeded in knocking over six more. My heart stopped while they fell towards the ground, and then there was only the shattering crash of broken silence. Every lycan in the room sat up, and looked at me. _Aha.._ I wagged my tail. _Sorry bout the wake up call, fellas... Can't we all just be friends?_

I made it up the rickety stack of boxes and out the small hole in the window quicker than I'd ever moved in my life, leaving a few tufts of tail fur in the hands of scary readheaded scarface dude. Ever wonder what a room full of howling horny hungover hungry male werewolves who have jus been rudely awakened sounds like?

A Little White Wolf puppy chow factory, that's what.

I ran flat out and never looked back, but from behind me I heard Lucian's voice over the mayhem of rasps and growls.

"Quiet, you lazy dogs! One small shewolf can best the lot of you, fine warriors you are. Let her go."

* * *

It took me twenty minutes and about eight miles to calm down enough to stop and notice my surroundings. I know, you would think that a large white wolf running wround downtown might excite a little attention from the human population. But as a rule, people see what they want to see. I've passed for a domestic pet before in my wolf form, my wolf is more beautiful than scary. The blood running down my side and the speed I was running at had a few people reaching for their cell phones to call the Humane Society, but the wolf would be long gone before they showed.

I found myself on sixteenth, and luckily, found a secondhand store just down the road. For a werewolf without a change of clothes, goodwill donation bins are life savers. or at least, dignity-savers.

Ten minutes later, fashionably clad in an oversize tshirt and sweats, I stole five bucks out of a coffeehouse tip jar and hopped on a bus to home.

* * *

"Corinne! Where the Hell were you last night? You missed THE BEST party! Justin and Brady did bodyshots off each other, and they had a floating beer pong table in the pool. It was epic!"

My big breasted, slightly slutty roomate Kayla woke me up for the second time that day, when she got home at noon. My ears ringing unmercifully with her chatter, I picked myself up from where I'd collapsed on the bed, still in my donated sweats, and dragged myself to the shower where I could at least drown out Kayla's party review. I stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water pound my sore skin. after several minutes and a hairwash later, I almost had myself convinced the night before had been the nightmare it sounded like. I'd gotten dosed at a party and tripped out, or the moon was playing hell with my head.

I climbed out of the shower, reached for the towel on the rack and paused to look at myself in the mirror.

There, on my side, was the ugly red welt of a fresh-healing wound. Lycan claws ripping through my skin, bouncing off my ribs like piano keys. It would leave a scar.

The proof, the evidence, that my night of horrors had truly happened. And there, in the back of my head, if I felt for it, a dark swirling presence, a link of someone else's consciousness.

Lucian.

Outside the door, in the bedroom, my cell began to ring. Half of My Heart, John Meyer. Aidan's ringtone.

Aidan.

I sat down on the toilet seat and put my head in my hands.

Well... Fuck.


	4. Chapter 4

Missed Text Messages

Aidan Conner

107 654 3210

_ Where are you? _

Sent Yesterday, 10:35 pm

_Are you alright?_

Sent Yesterday, 11:00 pm

_Call me, babe.._

Sent Today, 12:00 am

Missed Calls

Aidan - 6

Kayla - 1

Uncle Mathias - 1 - voicemail

* * *

Great. I sat on the corner of my messy single bed and stared at the screen of my Droid. Go missing for eight hours and suddenly everyone wants to get ahold of you.

Well, Scariest things first. I tapped the blinking voicemail icon by the pic of a frightening yellow-eyed black wolf. Uncle Mathias' monotone deep voice spoke.

"Corrine. The council convenes at next full moon. Your studies do you credit, but I must insist you attend. Your presence at council and at home has been missed, niece."

A hint of warmth colored his voice on the last syllables, and I felt guilt for my earlier dread. Don't get me wrong, Uncle M was the scariest, bad ass-est male wolf in our pack; that's why he lead it. He'd taken over pack leadership, and care of me, after the death of my parents. I'd no memory of what kind of leader my father had been, but Uncle M always did what he thought was fair and right, and he had taken care to see I never wanted for anything. Sure he was cold and abrupt 98 per cent of the time, but when you commanded a pack of wolves who would tear your throat out at the first sign of weakness, I supposed you kind of had to be.

Well, onto the next scary thing. Which might actually prove to be worse. I tapped Aidan's picture, and held the phone up to my ear, listening to the ringing on the other end. My dear sweet Aidan. In my life surrounded by strong alpha he-wolves, Aidan was my puppy. Weak and human, he would be ripped apart in any kind of fight. That didn't worry me, I could protect the both of us, and Aidan was so kind and eager to please. He did everything but wag his tail when he got a smile on my face. I'd never seen any male wolf show such affection.

The phone went to voicemail, so I assumed he must be in class. The realization jolted me, and I hung up quickly to check the time. Shit, fifteen minutes to be in Mr Davies' Lit class across campus. Jumping up, I grabbed the first tshirt and jeans I could find and scrabbled through the mess on the floor for the correct textbooks and bookbag. Texting while I jogged, I sent a quick message to Aidan.

_Overslept. In class. See you tonight._

* * *

The curling link in the back of my conciousness touched my mind, seeming to object to my making plans with another male. I dithered over the send button for a moment, and thought about Lucian. What the hell was this mess I'd gotten myself into.. After another minute, I tacked on 'We need to talk'. I hit send and silenced my phone as I slinked into the crowd heading for Mr Davies' classroom.

In his tunnel lair, Lucian sat studying the scrolls they'd salvaged from their last raid on a vampyre stronghold. Though Viktor was dead, several of the elder council members had escaped. So far no clear leader had stepped forward to take Viktor's place, but that was the way of vampyres, to skulk in the background and blend with the shadows; attack from behind and never when or where they were expected. Lucian had a feeling that soon a time of peace was coming for his brothers- they'd accomplished a blending of the two species, victory and revenge on most of the vampyres who'd held them enslaved for centuries. Only a straggling few were left, and once that was done.. well. What would a Lycan General do in his retirement?

Of course there was now the mystery of the little white she-wolf. He'd heard nothing of this kind of creature before. She was fascinating, and beautiful. Spunky too. Brave, and strong. He found himself drawn to her in a way he hadn't felt since...

Sonya.

Sorrow still came with the thought of her, but with Viktor's death, something of the indignant, revenge-fueled rage had soothed. With Justice, at last, perhaps the memories could rest in peace.

They were very different, the raven-haired vampyre warrior princess and this shape-shifting blonde child. She couldn't have been more than twenty. But they had the same strength, a courage and will that he admired. Women of such a calibre were rare treasures indeed.

But the mystery surrounding her would have to be unlocked. He poured over the ancient records of the descendants of Corvinus, looking for some reference to them, her kind. The Corvinus brothers, bitten by bat and wolf, had mutated to become some strange hybrid of human and animal. Lycans had never been able to take pure wolf form, nor could vampyres become bats.

Clearly the girl, Corrine, was from a completely different genetic line. There was an air of otherworld about her, and magick- this psychic link that seemed to bind them was also new to Lucian. Lycans and vampyres were able to pass thoughts and memories through bite and blood, but this was different. It was a constant connection to her, that if he reached for it gave him access to her emotions, bits of thought, and a constant slight pull in her direction. He was quite sure he could find her with no more help than that, wherever she was, whenever he wished.

And that would be quite soon.

* * *

After an hour and a half lecture on Homer and Greek philosophy in modern literature, I escaped. We'd been assigned a five page paper, which, coupled with the research essay I owed Ms Pike, pretty much booked my weekend solid. Kayla would be less than pleased. There was a Tri Beta Kappa frat party saturday night, and I'd promised not to miss this social event of the season. Apparently a virgin sacrifice into a volcano that spewed beer was to be the main event. Couldn't miss that impressive spectacle, now could we? How on earth would they manage to find a virgin on _this_ campus?

I myself, as a virgin on campus, hadn't lasted two weeks. I'd had a few too many at my first dorm party, spied Aidan, and pent up hormones had taken it from there. In the pack, sex was part of the final mating ritual. Unless you were ready to stay with them for life, you didn't have sex with another wolf. Our kind, just like our one-natured cousins, mate for life. Only the Alpha male may take whomever he chooses. I tried not to imagine Uncle M doing his Alpha-ly duties. And I also tried not to wonder what would happen now that I'd been bonded in a mate-ly way. With a Lycan. With an Alpha Lycan. I wasn't used to bending my will, and had no inclination to start. Of course, I did owe him for saving my life, but my soul seemed too high a price to pay. I was hoping, and I thought with good reason, that because he was a different species and because the bond was never finished, it would dissolve over time.

Yes, I decided. I would continue as if nothing had changed, and then in time, hopefully before the council meeting next month, it would all be back to normal.

With a lighter heart and humming Avril's 'Smile', I pulled out my Droid and called Aidan. We would go to the volcano party tomorrow night, and have an excellent, supernatural-free date!

* * *

The amount of homework going undone was atrocious, and my feet hurt before I'd gone three steps in my four inch heels. But they were sexy- black sandals with red ribbons that crisscrossed halfway up my calf. That was another attraction Aidan offered; he was tall enough for me to wear such hazardous footgear. In these, I was over six feet. A little smile stole my lips as I thought how Lucian would stand a good inch shorter than I if I were to wear these with _him._ The badass lycan commander had such a strong presence, that one very rarely thought of him in terms of height. The idea amused me

Without realizing it til too late, I sent that mental image and laughter down our subconcious link. Suddenly an answering rumble of amusement filled my mind, along with a feeling of smug promise that seemed to mean _Go ahead and try it._ I stumbled a bit with surprise, and did the equivalent of a mental blush and utter brain silence as I walked the rest of the way to the frat house. Kayla, at my side, could be counted on to fill any silence. We were meeting the boys at the party; Aidan and Kayla's flavor of the week, James.

We spied them at the bar and made our way over. Aidan's eyes traveled appreciatively up from my sandals and the red dress that swished as I walked, to my hair curled and bouncing on my bare shoulders. He offered me my red plastic cup and slid his arm around my waist with a grin.

"Total knockout, babe."

I grinned up at him and toasted him, clinking the plastic beer-filled cups. "Round 1 to me, then?"

He winked and kissed me on the cheek. "You know it." He leaned in closer to speak softly in my ear. A growl in my mind answered his intimacy. I ignored it. "How are you, babe? What's up with the disappearing act?"

I brushed him off with a smile and ran my hand up his arm, earning me another mental reprimand, which I also ignored. "Nothing at all, too much homework not enough sleep. It catches up with you at the most inconvenient times. Now, who's Kayla's latest honey trap victim?"

Aidan gave me a suspicious look, but let it slide. He escorted me over to the couple who were happily slurping each other's faces off, and we began the introductions.

The party was a raging success, with half the student body in attendance. A half an hour and four more drinks later, the tiki torches were suddenly doused, and hawaiian music and chanting started, drums coming closer as grass-skirt clad frat boys wound through the crowd, bearing their ceremonially dressed 'virgin' on a litter. There was laughter and applause from the crowd as they made their way to the top of the enourmous paper mache volcano. The chanting and music swelled to a crescendo as they reached the top, and prepared to dump the girl in the volcano's mouth. A great frothing and bubbling sound erupted from its innards, and liquid poured out the sides. The crowd cheered and picked up the chant, encouraging the girl's 'sacrifice'. I laughed and clapped along, turning to grin up at Aidan, and see his reaction to the play.

I never did see them throw her in. I was suddenly struck to my knees with the force of a blow that didn't actually hit me. A blinding pain tore through my shoulder, and for a moment I looked up through eyes that weren't my own, and saw a bright blue-eyed vampyre with a fanged smile rip back his sword, and Lucian's blood sprayed from it.

I screamed, and blacked out.


	5. Chapter 5

Through Lucian's eyes I watched the fighting unfold. I was completely present in his mind; I saw what he saw, felt what he felt, and heard not only what he heard, but his thoughts as well. We were in an old house, some kind of rambling, crumbling Victorian. There were dead bodies laying around, women in dress gowns and men with weapons out. Other Lycans were in the background, and the snarls and clanging of metal on metal told me the battle was not over.

The blow to the shoulder hurt, but it was not a fatal wound and Lucian seemed not to pay it a second thought. He was up, chasing the vamp before I'd quite realized what happened.

The vampyre was older, brown haired and leather clad. He had his fangs out and was ready to brawl. Clearly he was the highest ranking bloodsucker in the nest that Lucian's men seemed to have invaded. He turned to face his attacker, and my own instincts told me to stop and square off against him. But I was only a silent onlooker in this fight; Lucian kept full speed and barreled straight into the vamp's chest, sinking his claws in deep and smashing both their bodies into the brick wall. I winced with the pain of the impact and the vampyre's claws I could feel digging into Lucian's arm as if it were my own. Lucian's thoughts were a tangled snarl of rage and bloodlust. I caught flashes of Lucian's old memories of the same vampyre as I looked at his dying face. In the memory, the grinning vampyre held a whip, edged with silver barbs. There were Lycans in cages surrounding the courtyard. And tied to post, three small boys with fresh lash marks bleeding down their backs.

I sucked in a breath, horrified. With a snarl I threw my own will into the vamp's demise, revelling in the feel of Lucian's claws ripping the vamp's heart from his chest with brute force.

The vampyre's dead body slumped to the floor, and laid there limp and lifeless. Lucian went to his knees, panting, and stared at his hands. Blood dripped from them, and from the nasty wound at his shoulder and the claw marks mauling his arm. Despite myself, I felt the urge to take him in my arms, to tend his injuries and offer comfort. Before I could think better of it, I touched his mind with warmth.

_I didn't ask for your pity, _ he thought.

Only then did I realize that he'd been aware of my presence.

_No pity._ I replied, matter-of-fact. _Any man who seeks such vengence on behalf of the weak and innocent is one who earns my respect._

He seemed to take a minute to gauge the truth of my reply. When he spoke again there was a hint of bitter amusement.

_And this.. Aidan... Do you give him such respect?_

Well, so much for warm fuzzy feelings. A flash of anger passed between us.

_That is none of your business, _I thought.

_I think it is. And you don't. You care for the pup, but only the way a leader cares for her packmates. He submits to you, and you're rewarding his loyalty and devotion. He is not a suitable mate. You need a man who can protect you. _

Ha! Of all the egotistical male chauvanist SEXIST things! I slammed down a barrier of mental silence, leaving the air frosty with indignance.

I came back into myself on the ground at the party, with Aidan's anxious face hovering over me. Still pissed, I pushed him away and pulled myself up.

"Where the hell does he get off? Nobody asked for his backwards opinions! Outdated egomaniac. Need protecting. Me? Its _his _ass that's gonna need some damn protection!"

I'd been dusting myself off while I cursed, and hadn't quite realized that I'd been muttering out loud. Everyone around was staring at me like I'd just become a prime candidate for the psych ward.

"Umm.. aha..," I tried a smile. "I must have had a bit too much to drink.. how long was I out?"

Aidan took a few steps closer to me, his hands held out placatingly. "Just for a minute, babe, are you sure you're okay?"

I stared at his beautiful, innocent face a moment, my conversation with the dark lycanthrope lingering in my mind.

_He submits to you._

I shook my head to clear it and took Aidan's hand. "Yeah, no big deal. I'm sorry, I think I just need to go home. Call it a night."

I leaned down, and adjusted the straps of my sandals. Aidan reached down to pick up my purse and phone from where it had been dropped in the mess. I murmered thanks as he handed it to me and helped me stand up, but my mind was on something else. I felt Aidan's hand on my waist and his breath in my ear.

"Let me take you back to your room."

I nodded without thinking, although I should really have thought, and we walked together out of the party. It seemed that my trip to unconsciousness hadn't dampened the spirit. Music and lights and dancing continued as we wound our way through. My mood didn't lighten as we walked to my dorm.

What a mess I was in. And what could I do? Stupid goddamn lycan saving my ass when nobody asked him to. I kicked a rock off the sidewalk and watched as it skidded away. Well... he certainly hadnt _had _to save me.. But that was it precisely. He'd butted his big wolf snout in where it hadnt been wanted and now look what. I couldn't even have a normal date. What was to become of my life? Perhaps it would have been better to have died, than to have a life that would never truly be my own.

I hadn't been paying attention, and it surprised me when Aidan pulled me gently to a stop outside my dorm door. He put a finger under my chin and tilted my face up to his.

"Something's up, babe. I'm worried about you."

I looked in his eyes. Lucian was right, they were complete puppy dog eyes. I had to get him out of my head. Almost to spite him, I threw my arms around Aidan's neck and kissed him hard. A low snarling rumbled in my ears. It only egged me on. I slid my tongue over Aidan's lips, and hooked one long leg around his. Aidan came up for air, panting softly. His eyes sparkled with lust when he looked down at me.

"May I come in?" His voice was soft and unassuming, and hopeful.

The snarl in my head grew louder. I smiled, and opened the door.


	6. Chapter 6

I pulled Aidan with me into the dark room. Kissing and stumbling, we bumped into the desk in the corner. I felt around until I found the book lamp, and flicked it on, bathing a soft glow of half-light over the room. I bit Aidan's lip, and a wave of disapproval washed over me. It was the wrong way to make me stop. I hooked a finger under his belt buckle, and led Aidan to my bed. We fell down on top of each other, and I flipped us over, so I was topside. I ripped the buttons off Aidan's shirt, and ran my hands down his abdomen to his belt. I unfastened it.

There was no response in my head. I supposed my actions had earned me the silent treatment. That gave me pause. Suddenly, without Lucian's anger to encourage me, I wasn't really in the mood. I huffed out a breath. Heck. Damn wolf wasn't allowed to use reverse psychology on me.

"Babe?" Aidan cocked his head up, hopefully. It annoyed me suddenly, his need for my permission and approval in every tiny thing.

_He submits to you._

Oh, goddamn it all to hell. Stinking Lycan was right. Anger bubbled up in me quicker than beer in a volcano. I closed my eyes and blew out a long breath as I slid off the bed, away from Aidan.

"I'm sorry Aide. I really dont feel up to anything tonight. You should go home." Before I could see the puppy dog hurt in his eyes, I turned and stumbled into the bathroom, and started a hot shower. I sat on the lip of the tub. After a moment I heard him leave.

Angry tears formed in my eyes, and I blinked them back. Aidan was not a suitable mate. My wolf would no longer accept him. He was weak.

Lucian rose unbidden to my mind's eye; taking a sword through the shoulder and shrugging it off like a fly. Commanding forces of his own kind with experience and authority. Ripping a vampyre's heart out with his bare hands. I tried to picture Aidan in his place, and the contrast was comical. My wolf growled with primal appreciation, coveting the powerful male within my grasp. In the pack, strength and dominance guaranteed position and safety. They were the only traits that engendered respect. And Lucian would be more than a match for any wolf in my pack.. perhaps even Uncle Mathias.

You would think that our humanity could govern such base instincts, and we could be more civilized. But my wolf nature was an equal part of me. And even my human side gave Lucian admiration. He had compassion, and fought for those of his own who couldn't defend themselves. There was Honor in that, and honor was the mark of a great leader.

But these were forbidden thoughts to have.

My pack would never accept him. I knew well their opinion of Corvinus' Children. We would be banished. At best.

I had a responsibilty to my pack. A legacy to uphold. I would put Lucian out of my mind. I wiped the tears from my cheeks.

* * *

My rebellious mind had other ideas. That night I slept, and as I slept I dreamed. Til now, I had done my best to block out all of Lucian's memories; those that had been shared when our link was forged. But my subconscious had decided I needed a recap. That night I watched the Rise of the Lycans.

_"Is it true what you told my father? That you feel nothing when you kill them?"_

_The question surprised Lucian. He gave Sonya a look, and kissed her softly on the shoulder. "They are mindless beasts. Why should I feel anything for them?"_

_"I should have crushed you under my heel the day you were born!" Viktor snarled, as they faced each other across the dark cavern. _

_"Yes," Lucian said, and attacked, with a passion and ferocity Viktor was unprepared for. The point of Lucian's sword entered Viktor's mouth, and exited the back of his skull. Lucian pulled him close, and spoke into his ear. _

_"__**You should have**__."_

The story was tragic and inspiring all at the same once. But suddenly my dream morphed into something different entirely.

_"Just fix it, will you?" _

_Lucian was sitting in a room underground, the same one that I'd woken up in a few days ago. He sat on the metal gurney, and a man with glasses on his forehead and latex gloves was examining him. Lucian was shirtless, and his muscles gleamed in the harsh light. The stab wound to his shoulder and his mauled left arm were on display; still raw._

_"I'm sorry," The man with glasses said, "There's something keeping the wounds from closing. Its strange, there's no trace of silver.."_

Immediately I had an awful sense of deja vu. I knew what it was. And good heck, that Dr. Jekyll wannabe was a clueless dolt.

_Lucian huffed out an impatient breath. "Bind it, then. I don't have time for this."_

_The man proceeded to bandage Lucian's arm quickly and efficiently. But his eyebrows were pulled down into a severe V. _

_"I really must insist you cancel the plans tomorrow, sir. You cannot do anything strenuous-"_

_Lucian cut him off with a bark. "No. The attack proceeds on schedule. There's no telling where that bastard will get off to tomorrow if we let him. We know where he is now, we attack now, and you aren't to say one goddamn word of this to any of the men. Understood?"_

_"Perfectly."_

_"Good."_

Bad, bad, bad, bad.

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	7. Chapter 7

Lucian stood in the weapons chamber, surrounded by caged walls of guns, grenades, blades, whips and all other sorts of lovely wound-inflicting devices. He ran a hand lovingly down the length of a gleeming steel longsword.

This was it. The last one. The final vampyre elder who had made up the original council in Viktor's court. Ivanik. Information gathered at the last raid placed him at a safehouse in the industrial district. He was trying to gather the remains of Kraven's coven, and lead them. To organize their forces against the lycans once again. It was a movement that would have a lot of support. And must be squelched.

Around him, Lucian's men filed in and began to outfit themselves orderly from the weapons supply. The tension rolling off their commander kept them respectfully quiet and efficient. Anticipation bit the air and infected them all. Lucian strapped the longsword to his hip, replaced the UV round clips in the twin Barettas and returned them to his shoulder holsters, and finally flicked the pressure switch which retracted the concealed blades back into the sleeves of his long coat. One by one the men behind him finished replacing clips and checking safeties. When they all stood prepared and silent, Lucian turned and swept from the room. An air of danger and excitement flowed off him like a cloak. Obediently, his forces fell in step behind.

Three stolen armoured SWAT vans with fresh blackout paint jobs waited for them at the surface as they filed out of the tunnels. Lucian leapt into the third van behind the last lycan, and sat pensive as the vehicle started to move. The men kept their eyes to themselves, and all mirrored the same careful grim expression. They were seasoned and competent soldiers. He was proud of them.

Now, in the brief minutes before a fight, was the time to mentally refine strategy; to focus and prepare, and feel the adrenaline beginning to ebb and flow. And yet.

Had she slept with the human?

The thought refused to rest. His gaze on her, the human boy's touch and kiss, were making Lucian see red. To maintain self-control, he'd blocked the feed from her mind. But now, _not_ knowing what was happening was even more exasperating. The girl had infected his brain.

The van hit a pothole, and Lucian bit down a hiss. His shoulder throbbed at the jostling, and he felt the warm wet sensation that told him it was still bleeding. He glanced at the other men in the truck, and saw a few furtively avert their gaze. There were times when Lucian had had to kill other males who challenged his leadership, and his blood and pain would be seen as an open invitation to attack if there was someone waiting for the opportunity. The strongest leads the pack; if you're tough enough to kill or dominate the Alpha, you take his place.

He put the full force of his dominance behind his gaze and stared down the group. There could not be any question of loyalty before a battle, the stakes for the entire den were too high. No one met his eyes as the van pulled to a halt. Pierce threw open the bolt on the door and waited to follow Lucian out into the night.

The armoured trucks had stopped at seperate spots in alleys on three sides of the building, a few blocks away. It was a large red-brick affair with security gates and, no doubt, death dealer lookouts posted around the perimeter.

Moving silently, Lucian signalled three pairs of scouts to clear the places he'd been led to believe that vampyre guards would be posted. He took Taylor with himself, and began to stealthly scale the back side of the building across the street. There was one vamp sniper on the roof here, and another two blocks over. These were the times he sorely missed his second-in-command, Raze. Dying from wounds sustained while fighting Viktor, Raze had spent the last of his strength dragging Lucian's body from Alexander Corvin's ship.

It was a heavy burden, knowing that someone had died for you. Raze. Sonja. There was a pressure in everything you did, a need to live better, to do something with your life that made them proud. That made their sacrifice not be for nothing.

The vamp was hidden behind a gargoyle, completely focused on the world through his scope. It made it easy for Lucian to come up behind him, to clamp a hand over his mouth and slit his throat. Blood fountained out and fell to the street below in crimson rain. Tossing the vamp aside with his good arm, Lucian motioned Taylor to follow him. He took three running strides to the edge to the building's roof and leapt off. He landed in a crouch on the roof of the next building over, keeping his head down and scenting the air. Behind him Taylor landed, rolling on impact and coming to a panting halt. Lucian held up a hand for silence and gave Taylor a moment to catch his breath, before setting off at a lope for the edge of the next cheap apartment complex. They leap-frogged across three more roofs, coming as close as possible to the gated warehouse. Quietly they scaled down the side of the last building, staying in the shadows to survey their target.

There were no lights visible inside, only muted watchlights in intervals around the gate. His men must have been successful in eliminating the other lookouts, they heard no sound to indicate an alarm had been raised. The fence itself was basic chain-link, seven feet high. Nothing particular to arouse suspicion. The idea for this meeting was secrecy over security. Seeing no movement, Lucian went for the fence. Taylor behind him, they reached the fence and began to climb. As they dropped over the other side, Lucian heard the rustling of other bodies scaling the fence on the other sides of the building. He caught Arnon's eye as the scarred Lycan seargent dropped to the inside perimiter. He gave the signal to converge on the building. Arnon nodded, turned to his left and passed the order on. They all began to creep forward simultaneously, keeping to the shadows behind large delivery vans and stacks of tarped materials.

As they neared the large blacked-out windows, bits of lights became visible in the places where the paint had chipped off the glass. Voices murmured from within, and the sickly-sweet scent of vampyre reached Lucian's nose. A snarl rose in his throat. With a soft note of singing metal, he drew the sword from its scabbard at his hip. He spoke over his shoulder to Taylor.

"Change." He said, and charged directly into the window, sending a spray of shattered glass everywhere. Behind him, Taylor obediently removed his coat and began to shift, his face elongating into a fearsome snout, fur covering his body and huge ropy muscles covering his torso as his ribcage expanded. A howl tore from his throat, the signal for the others to follow Lucian into the fray.

There were screams as Lucian crashed into the group. The warehouse was outfitted with comfortable furniture and tables in one corner, and instruments of torture and science in the back. The vampyres, some finely dressed and some in death dealer gear, had been gathered in a circle around Ivanick. The Death Dealers stood back, their hands on their weapons while the vamps in finer attire sat daintily sipping blood from wine goblets. Those were the ones who uttered shrieks of surprise and fear as Lucian crashed the party. They immediatly began to scramble away. The Death Dealers started to raise their guns to Lucian, but a half-second after his appearance other Lycans, some Changed, smashed through the remaining windows on all four sides. A few shots whipped past Lucian's head, but the majority of the vamps turned to face the new threats.

Snarls and screams erupted all around, with the accompaniment of gunfire and the clanging of metal. Lucian had eyes only for Ivanick, who stood in the center of the room. He was tall, blonde and mean, with a lined face and hard eyes. He snarled when he met Lucian's gaze, and drew a blade from the folds of his long jacket. He took a step back and looked for a way out, but he was surrounded on all sides by large bodies engaged in deadly combat. Lucian moved towards him, but was blocked by a huge Death Dealer in black leather. The vamp had a Glock trained on Lucian's forhead, no doubt loaded with silver nitrate rounds. Lucian spun as the vamp fired, dropping to one knee and slicing his sword at the vampyre's legs. His wounded shoulder shrieked at the effort, but the blade cut clean through in a smooth swing, and the hulking Death Dealer toppled, screaming. Lucian stood back upright, but Ivanick was nowhere to be seen. In the back of the warehouse, a large door swung slightly on its hinges, as if it had just been flung open with tremendous force. Cursing, Lucian ran towards it.

Pausing twice to trade blows with vamp soldiers, he reached the door and flung himself into the dark depths of the corridor beyond. He heard footsteps to the right, and gave chase. Around the corner was a large truck bay. Ivanick ripped the padlock off the door and pulled it up, fleeing outside with two Death Dealers at his heels. Lucian pulled an extra burst of speed and leapt through the open bay door, right into the fist of one of the vampyre henchmen waiting just outside. The blow threw Lucian to the ground, but he rolled and came back up, slicing neatly into the vamp's arm. He felt the sting of a blade slice across his back and turned to see Ivanick brandishing his sword. With a snarl Lucian turned to face the new threat, and a gunshot fired from the right. Pain shot through Lucian's leg. The second Death Dealer stepped into the light, holding a smoking gun. A trickle of silver nitrate oozed from the bullet wound in Lucian's right thigh, and he dropped to one knee, his sword clattering to the asphalt just out of reach.

A maniacal grin stretched Ivanick's face. He pointed his sword at Lucian.

"Time to die, Dog."

He spit on the pavement at Lucian's feet, and pulled his blade back for a killing strike. At the same time Lucian dived for his weapon, and a large silvery white blur streaked between the two. Lucian grabbed his sword and rolled, coming back up in a defensive position just in time to see the white wolf sink its teeth in Ivanick's upraised arm.

Lucian did a double-take, staring at the beautiful snarling creature. Ivanick screamed as she used her powerful jaws to rip off the hand that held his sword, sending blood spraying in a wide arc. The Death Dealers had frozen for a moment in surprise, but soon regained their composure and attacked. She whirled to meet them, leaving Ivanick screaming on the ground. Silver nitrate bullets ripped up the asphalt behind her as she charged the vamp with the gun. She weaved side to side lightning fast, giving him no clear target, and attacked from the side. She placed four large paws on his chest and slammed him into the pavement, ripping his throat out with razor sharp fangs.

While she had her teeth in the second vampyre's neck, the first Death Dealer pulled out a handgun and drew a bead on her exposed back. There was a shot, and Lucian's sword sang through the air. The vamp's gun and left hand clattered to the asphalt, but the wolf cried out in pain as a red tear opened on her side where the bullet had grazed her flesh. Lucian's sword flashed again, and the vampyre's head toppled to the ground.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Ivanick had pulled a handful of the silver mechanical throwing stars from inside his jacket. With his one good hand now, he threw them at Lucian with all his strength. Wicked blades sprung from the contraptions as they whistled through the air. Lucian gasped as they bit deep into the flesh of his back. He fell to his knees.

Seeing Lucian fall, the white wolf let out an eerie crying howl. Her sides heaving with sharp panting breaths, she turned her gaze to Ivanick. Her large ice-blue eyes froze him where he stood. He stared at her as she advanced on him, snarling. Blood dripped from her lips, and her paws glistened wet and red where they'd been dipped in it. Her fangs gleamed white, and her ears were pinned back against her skull. She let out a deep, horrifying rasping growl as she lowered herself into a crouch, prepared to pounce. Ivanick turned to run, terrified of this demon she-wolf who had appeared out of nowhere. Surely she must have been sent straight from the mouth of hell to drag him back to its depths. He didn't make it three yards. In two huge bounds the wolf was on him, crushing him face-first to the ground. He screamed as she sank her claws into his back, and he felt the grating of her fangs against his spine as she ripped open the back of his neck.

And then he felt no more.

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	8. Chapter 8

When I felt the vampire stop twitching underneath me, I loosened my jaws and released him. Loping swiftly I made my way back to where Lucian fell. Changing to human form as I came up to him, I grabbed his shoulders and turned him on his side so I could see his face.

"Lucian? Lucian! Come on, answer me.." I shook him, but got no response. Blood ran down the side of his face from the split where he'd hit his head on the pavement, and five throwing stars from hell were embedded in his back. A cold finger of fear traced down my spine. I touched one of them gently, and pulled my hand away covered in blood. Shit. I cursed mentally and looked around for something to do. I caught the sounds of men running toward us. The shouts calling for Lucian told me they were his soldiers. I remembered that I was naked. I scrabbled back to Ivanick's lifeless corpse and dragged his coat off. It reached down mid-calf and covered me appropriately. I tied it shut gratefully and ran back to Lucian, skinning my knees on the pavement as I fell back down beside him.

The men slowed their approach as they saw me, crouched bloodily over their leader's body. I kept myself on the defensive- unsure how they would react. The last few times I'd met them, I'd been on the menu. But they seemed to pause as they saw my protective stance over Lucian. Arnon pushed his way to the front of the pack. He looked around, taking in the three dismembered and mauled vampyre bodies. Moving cautiously, he approached me.

"How bad is he?"

I kept my eyes narrowed, one hand fisted in Lucian's coat. I wasn't exactly ready to kiss and make up with these boys. But we all needed to get Lucian help.

"Not good," I said, "He's been shot, with silver nitrate, in the leg. And there's five blades in his back. A couple other cuts and bruises."

Arnon turned and called over his shoulder. Then he came closer and crouched down beside me, taking off his belt and applying it as a makeshift tourniquet above Lucian's bullet wound. He spoke quietly, I assumed so that the men behind him couldn't hear us.

"You kill any of them?" He jerked his chin towards the dead vamps. I nodded.

"Two. The one without a throat and the big one. Lucian got the one that's missing a head."

He looked at me surprised, with something akin to respect.

"They ambushed him." I explained. He nodded. Two lycans with a stretcher came up to us, the geek with glasses following them. I moved aside, letting them get to Lucian.

"These are serious," Dr. Jekyll said, "We have to get him back to the lab quickly. Hurry. and be gentle. He's lost a lot of blood."

As they lifted Lucian to the stretcher, I chewed my lip. Arnon offered an arm to help me stand. I accepted it hesitantly. I winced when my movements tore at my injuries. Arnon muttered in my ear.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded stiffly, watching them carry Lucian away. Arnon gave me a calculating look, his scarred face contemplative.

"Do you want to go with him?" He asked. I looked up at him, unsure. Going into the lycan's den again didn't really sound that appealing. But he needed my help, still. I nodded.

"I think he would want you there," Arnon explained, "and for your help tonight, I suppose you have earned our trust... for the moment."

Well, thanks. I guess. Limping as quick as I could, I hobbled along after the men bearing the stretcher. We came to a place in the fence that looked like an angry Changed lycan had torn through it. A black armoured truck waited, and I leapt in quickly after they'd loaded Lucian and the evil doctor.

The ride back was longer than I would have liked. The doc spent the time trying to staunch Lucian's still bleeding wounds. His healing powers were out of comission. He lay on his side, so the blades in his back wouldn't dig in further. Dr Jekyll bent closer to examine one of them. Some movement of his, or perhaps the truck, must have jostled Lucian. He gave a vicious hiss all of a sudden, his cloudy blue eyes snapping open, and tried to sit up. It scared the Christ out of me, but I reacted without thinking.

"Woah, easy." Crooning softly, I put my hands on his shoulders, and brought my face into his line of vision. I could see that he was close to Changing, his mind turning control over to his primal self, the one governed by instinct- kill or be killed. Only the silver in his bloodstream kept him from doing so. "Hey big guy. Its alright. No one here's gonna hurt you, you're fine. Everything's fine."

I kept my eyes locked with his, putting the full force of my dominant will into the intense gaze, letting the lycan beast inside him know he had to listen. But my voice and touch were soft, consoling, keeping my dominance from being a challenge. He'd beat me in a battle of wills for pack rank, and I had no desire to start that. But the rules for an Alpha pair were a little different. If one mate were incapacitated, the other could take his place. It was as equal as any relationship in a pack could really be. And right now, Lucian needed me to be the strong one. I stared him down, and did the mental equivalent of crossing my fingers while I waited to see if his wolf would let me lead. Would trust me.

With a deep shuddering sigh, Lucian's eyes closed, and he let me lay him back on the stretcher. I kept up my low soothing murmur, and stroked his hair back from his face. Good boy, I thought. I've got you. You're okay.

The doc was cowered back in the corner of the truck, looking at me wide-eyed. The truck shuddered to a halt then, and the doors swung open, bringing in a gust of air and the smells of the city. I looked up at him. "Come on. Lets move."

I watched the other lycans carefully as they picked up the stretcher and carried him down to the tunnels. I knew that a wounded packmaster is often a dead packmaster, killed by his own bloodthirsty wolves. Arnon seemed to have them under control, but if one broke rank it would be up to me to put him down. So I watched, and didn't let down my guard until Arnon, Dr. Jekyll, Lucian and I were alone in the operating room. Lucian lay shirtless, the grisly wounds and old scars marring his skin exposed.

"The silver in his system will make healing more difficult. I can start a transfusion, but at this point it's infected even the tissue. He'll have to sweat it out, if he can." The doctor leaned over Lucian, his glasses down on his nose. He reached over to the steel tray of ominous surgical equipment, and selected a device that looked a lot like the claw in those dollar-a-try arcade games where you tried to grab a stuffed animal. He brought it up to one of the wicked blades embedded in Lucian's back, and I realized it was specifically designed to grab those things. The doc yanked the first one out unceremoniously, and dropped it in a seperate steel tray. Lucian hissed, his back arched in pain, but quickly fell silent and still, his sides heaving with quick pants. He was only semi-conscious, if at all. I hoped at least he realized we were helping him, and remembered that I was here. I reached to open our link in the back of my mind, but was blocked. Doc went for another prize. Shit. Stuffed animals had never looked so harmless.

After he'd removed all the blades and cleaned the wounds on Lucian's back, Doc took a minute to inspect the older stab wound in his shoulder. It was crusted with dried blood, and painful-looking.

"This should have healed. I cannot tell what is stopping the regeneration process, I'll take a sample and run some tests-"

"I can heal it." I cut him off. Time was wasting. "I just need to be left alone with him. You can use my blood for the transfusion as well. I suggest you start that." I pulled up the coat sleeve and offered my arm.

Dr Jekyll looked flustered. And mistrustful. "But I have no idea if your blood is a correct match, or what effect its.. extra properties will have. We know nothing about you."

I opened my mouth, ready to start a hissy lecture; but Arnon beat me to it.

"Do what she says." We both looked at him, surprised. He nodded his head at the man on the operating table. "Lucian trusts her. That's all you need to know. Take them to Lucian's chambers, and start the transfusion. Then come back here and tend to the rest of the men."

Muttering, the doctor obediently started to wheel Lucian towards the exit. I followed, but looked up at Arnon as I walked. I hoped he read the gratitude in my eyes. But he only gave a curt nod, and stalked away.

Two lycans that had been posted just outside the door followed us as we left. I recognized scary redheaded scarface dude, who had almost eaten me the last time I visited. I gave him a tentative little wave when I caught him looking at me. He immediately snapped his eyes forward, but I caught his mouth twitching a little, as if trying to hold back a smile.

The room Doc led me to was simple, but clean and organized. I'll admit the huge mahogony canopy bed knocked me for a loop. It looked like an antique. Doc caught me eyeing it as he wheeled Lucian over to its side.

"He brought it with him from the old country. From the castle, where he was a slave. It's from the chambers of his master." He turned to the men who'd followed us. "Lift him, carefully."

I winced as they shifted him, laying him on his side again; one of the few places he wasn't injured. Lucian was silent through this torture, seemingly blessedly unconscious. As soon as he was settled, Doc, with a huge needle and length of rubber tubing in his hand, dismissed the men. He motioned me to lay on the opposited side of the bed from Lucian. I did so, awkwardly. If I had fantasized about bedding the Lycan General, this wasn't quite what I'd planned. Doc grabbed my exposed arm and swiped the inside of my elbow with alcohol, then jabbed in the giant needle. I bit back a snarl, and the instinctive urge to bite off his head. Damn, this guy had all the bedside manner of Frankenstien. Help yourself to a little brain while you're at it, bud.

Holding the end of the tube up, he watched as my blood filled it. He seemed to take more care as he inserted the needle on the other end into the twin spot on Lucian's arm. The scent of Lucian's blood seemed to suddenly register in my brain. My mouth watered, and I felt my fangs run out. I was suddenly anxious for Doc to get the hell out of there, and leave us alone. But he hovered, propping my needled arm up with pillows, so the blood flowed down to Lucian.

"You must stay perfectly still."

I nodded, not intending to at all, and twitched my foot, impatient. _Leave_ already. But he paused, giving me an appraising look.

"Your blood has been spilt tonight as well. The scent of it is in the air, and you've favoured your right side all night. _He_-" he nodded at Lucian, "would want me to offer my services. Do you require my assistance?"

Awe. I was oddly touched. Doc, Arnon, Scarface- the loyalty and care they felt for Lucian was impressive. I could only hope to inspire that one day in my own people. I gave him a little half smile of thanks.

"No thanks Doc, I'm good. You'd better get back to it."

I watched as he walked out, then looked over at Lucian. The wound in his shoulder needed my attention; the vampyre venom that had coated the sword that inflicted it was festering the flesh around it and preventing it from healing. Poisoned blades were a dirty trick, an insurance policy for slimy bastards. Even if you killed them, all they needed was to draw blood and you'd follow them to the grave. Sore losers. But the healing properties in my saliva should work as an antidote. There was a reason for the expression 'licking their wounds'. It might not sound sanitary to humans, but it was natural to us.

However, the transfusion diluting the silver nitrate in his blood was equally as important. I would try to lay still a while, so as not to disturb the process. He lay on his side facing me, his face buried in the pillow. I reached over with my needle-free arm and brushed a strand of his hair back. Even unconscious, he didn't look peaceful. Obviously he was still aware enough to be in pain. I chewed my lip, and tried once again to get into his head.

The door was still closed to me, but I persisted this time; with the same gentle force I'd used on him earlier. He was weak, he knew it. His instincts told him to trust his mate. Of course, I reminded myself, we _weren't _a bonded pair. This was only payback- he saved my life, I would save his. We'd be even. But our animal selves did not seem to realize that. I gave another nudge.

Reluctantly, he let me in...

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	9. Chapter 9

Ah. Goddamn.

The first thing that flooded into my brain as soon as Lucian opened the door was pain. Vicious amounts. It seemed his entire body was battered, bruised, sliced, shot or impaled. But the worst, most hideous thing was the burning of silver through his veins. I flinched when I felt it, and let out a cry before biting down hard on my lip, and squeezing my eyes tight shut.

_**You**_ _wanted in, little wolf._

Lucian's voice came to my mind, with a dry, bitter chuckle. I wrinkled my nose.

_Yeah, well. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was trying to make sure you weren't catatonic or something. _I blew out a breath through my nose, my fingernails biting deeply into the flesh of my palms. Lucian's mind was hazy, but he noticed my discomfort. His voice was softer.

_You don't have to be here for this._

I opened my eyes and blinked slowly a few times, taking measured breaths. _Yeah, well,_ I thought. _Nothing good was on tv._

I'd no experience myself, but I knew from listening to others that you were supposed to be able to use the mental link to take pain, and block it from the other wolf's mind. That is, if they let you. Luckily, Lucian was feeling pretty pliant. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, and he'd already given me dominance; for tonight at least. Not sure how effective I was being, I visualized the red haze that was agony clouding our thoughts, and drew it all to myself. My brain pounded. Quickly compartmentalizing, I blocked it in the back of my mind with a solid brick wall.

I turned my head on the pillow, and looked at him laying across from me. He seemed to be breathing easier. I relaxed a bit. Moving carefully so I didn't tear out the needles from our arms, I sat up. Keeping my arm raised so the blood kept flowing correctly, I scooted until I was sitting beside him, the length of my leg touching his. Gently, I placed my hand on his well-developed bicep. I bent my head to his injured shoulder, and the scent of his blood and our physical proximity made my heartbeat spike. I paused a moment, my nostrils flaring slightly. When my breathing came back to normal, I touched my lips to his skin.

At the touch, something warm and strong flooded into me. Something more was solidified by the action, and I felt whole; realizing that since that night I'd followed his scent into an angry pack of hunting lycans and got myself fileted, I'd been running away. Running from a piece of myself, fighting to claw it out, even. Right this second, I couldn't remember why. I traced my tongue over the gash on his shoulder, and the tang of salt on his skin mixed with the sweetness of his blood made my head light. My eyes bled ice-blue with lust, and I squeezed them shut, biting back a moan, and the urge to sink my fangs into his shoulder. My free hand moved from his arm to his waist, pulling us closer, then slid up his back. I paused as my fingertips brushed the bandages there. Opening my eyes, I inspected the stab wound I'd just cleaned. Even as I watched, the edges started to knit back together. With a smile, I pressed a soft kiss to the spot.

Pulling up the edge of the vampyre's coat I still wore, I moved to my knees. Baring my legs, I hopped gently over him. I was straddling his hips sideways, supporting my weight on one bent knee and one long leg extended on the other side. Carefully, I peeled back the bandages on his back. Blood dripped from the gashes, leaving crimson trails down his skin. My mouth found them eagerly, my tongue tracing their path. Beneath me, he gave a shuddering sigh.

I practically purred my contentment. His blood was intoxicating. One by one, as I cleaned them, the wounds healed. He would still be weak, but he'd live. Gently, I laid him down on his freshly-healed back. This left me on top of him, still lapping up any stray drops. I pressed a kiss to his forearm, and opened my eyes with a soft sigh, looking up. Lucian met my gaze, his expression bemused.

I froze for a moment, realizing the picture I must present. Ivanick's black leather duster, the only clothing I had on, was pulled up around my hips, exposing vast amounts of leg where they sat on either side, straddling him. Also, in my maneuvering, it had begun to gape open at the neck, exposing generous amounts of bosom. My blonde hair hung in disarrayed curls on my shoulders, my eyes were vivid blue, and a bead of his own blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. His eyes watched intently as my tongue flicked out to catch that last drop. Then carefully, I reached down and took out the needle first in my arm, then his. I set the medical equipment to the side, took his arm in my hands, and bent down to the small puncture mark. Keeping our eyes locked, I covered the spot with my mouth, and sucked gently. A shudder ran through his whole frame. It thrilled me.

Taking his arm back from me, Lucian braced his hands against the bed and lifted himself into a sitting position. His face inches from mine, I felt the roiling of thoughts and emotions in his mind. Flashes of anger, and the image of Aidan and I together passed between us accusatorily. I met his eyes evenly.

"No. I didn't sleep with him." I whispered, the electricity charging the air between us made me breathless. "I made him leave." I showed him the proof in my memories. A growl rumbled from Lucian's chest.

"Good." And then his mouth was on mine, hungry and demanding. He brought one hand up to my cheek, cupping it gently at first, then using it to pull me even deeper into the kiss. If he'd given me any control over him that night, I lost it then. His mouth dominated me, and I gave in immediately, swept away in the heat of it. If his blood had been intoxicating, his kiss was drugging. I melted into him. He bit down on my lower lip, and the sweet taste of my blood filled our mouths. I whimpered. I was helpless. I couldn't breathe.

With my last scrap of will, I ripped myself from him. Panting hard, I scrambled backwards off the bed. For a moment I stood, watching his defined chest heaving and losing myself in the intenisty of his gaze. Then, with a cry, I tore away.

I turned, and ran.

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	10. Chapter 10

I kept running. Flat out. Not looking back.

I ran past flustered Lycans who looked at each other as I flew past, and dithered over whether or not to chase and eat me. I ran on bare feet until I hit a patch of empty tunnels, where I shucked the leather coat and phased to wolf.

I leapt free from the tunnels and bolted out into the street, sending tires squealing and horns honking as I bounded in and out of traffic. There were shouts, and some screams. I didn't stop.

I ran until the metropolis of the city faded to suburbia and manicured lawns. I ran until the suburbs became low income housing. And then no housing. And then farmland. Huge, empty fields. And then wilderness.

I hit the Canadian border the next morning. I kept on.

* * *

I ran for a week; stopping only briefly to wolf down (pardon the pun) whatever small game i could find; squirrel, quail, rabbit, and to occasionally collapse in exhaustion for an hour or two. It was easier as the wolf, to go on instinct alone and ignore the chaos in my brain. But even still, I couldn't find any rest. Always the urge to run pushed me forward.

I reached Alaska at two o'clock in the morning. The moon in the sky illuminating my frozen homeland was huge. Waxing Gibbous, if I was right. The pull of it told me Full Moon wasn't far off. That probably meant that even now, just like me, many other wolves were making the trek home.

As I crested the last sloping ridge to home, I slowed my pace. My paws left imprints in the sparkling powder of fresh snow. My ear flicked. I heard a rustling, and turned my head in time to see a small white rabbit poking its head out from a burrow underneath frozen rocks and tundra. He stilled when he spied me, and for a moment we just looked at each other. The snow rabbit and the arctic wolf, predator and prey at home in our natural habitat. The world was back in its rightful order. I took a deep breath of frozen air, and felt invigorated. Far off in the distance, a lonely wolf howled. I turned towards it with eager ears, and the rabbit took its opportunity to escape.

I threw back my head and answered the lone wolf's cry. For a moment our voices joined in the crisp air, weaving a haunting song of wild beauty.

With one last yip, I set off again at a lope for the huge stone mansion on the hill; the home fires were burning, and as I ran more voices took of the wolf's call.

My pack was welcoming me home.

* * *

**A/N short, I know. There's much more to the story, but I'm not sure when I can update again, hectic next few weeks. But as always, reviews inspire me! Tell me what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

Inside the gates of our ancestral home, I skidded to a stop. A group of wolves milled in the center of the courtyard. A hunting party forming, or so it appeared. As I came into view, the glossy brown and grey and russet bodies parted. A great black monster of a wolf sat at the center, and rose to greet me. Uncle Matthias. Alpha, packmaster, my surrogate parent and leader. He towered six inches over me, his yellow-gold gaze was a physical weight on me.

Following protocol, I walked forward to meet him. I drew up a respectful distance away, then dropped my gaze & lowered my head, baring the back of my neck in submission. Matthias came forward until I could see the black of his huge paws. He bent down and took my neck between his giant teeth. My heart thudded in my chest. He gave me a gentle shake, then released me and nuzzled my ear affectionately.

_Welcome home, my niece._

The language of wolves is not composed of words; it is made up of gestures, growls, grunts, yips, whines, whimpers, howls, breathing and body language. But it is an effective form of communication. My ears perked forward, and I wagged my tail.

_Thank you, Packmaster. _

Uncle M held his head high, and gave me an approving look.

_You have journeyed hard. Tonight the pack hunts with me. Follow Mischa to your old quarters, rest and refresh yourself. I will have an audience with you, tomorrow._

Looking back over his shoulder, Matthias gave a breathy bark. A beautiful bronze-haired woman clad only in a semi-transparent, wispy pale-pink wrap stepped forward. I gave my tail a friendly shake when I recognized my childhood friend. Mischa smiled softly in response.

Satisfied, Matthias gave me a nod and surged forward, padding towards the gate. Wolves came up to me as they followed him out, paying their respects and welcoming me with nuzzles and nose-rubbing. From the gate I heard Uncle M begin the hunting cry.

The rest of the pack answered with yips of excitement, and they all took off at a run. I watched them leave with envy, until the last tail disappeared in the distance. I longed to feel the rush of the hunt, the excitement of the pack and the blood of the kill. But the toll of my journey was beginning to wear on me. I needed sleep.

When I turned back around, Mischa stood in front of me with her arms outstretched. In her hands was a matching robe, identical to her own, only in ice-blue. Formal clothes were greatly inconvienent in the pack home, where phasing from human to wolf was as natural as breathing. Nudity was common, and a non-issue, really; but adult wolves usually donned these or similar simple garments when planning to remain in human form for any length of time.

I phased and stepped forward, accepting the clothes gratefully. I slid into the wrap, and tied it at the waist. Mischa had already turned and was headed down the marble halls of the mansion. I hurried to catch up. I was eager to talk to my friend.

"Mischa!" I called, catching her by the elbow. She obediently slowed to wait for me, serenly continuing when I caught my stride. She seemed.. different. The girl who was my friend had had much more exuberance. "How are you? How's the pack, and life at home? and Riordan? I've missed you all so much."

I put more meaning behind that than usual. With my whole Lucian/mate bond dramafest left behind, I surprised myself with the intensity of my joy to be home. Back where life made sense and everything was familiar. I was almost giddy with excitement, and relief. Mischa smiled at me as she replied, but the smile did not quite reach her eyes. There was something vacant about them.

"Everything has been wonderful. We've missed you too, of course. The gods of the hunt have favoured us. The pack is well provided for. Shanna mated Castiel, while you were away. They're expecting pups in the spring."

That news surprised me. They were only our age. "Wow. Well, that's great, give them my congratulations.. And Riordan? Are you two not still close? And how's my Uncle? Still reigning with an iron fist, I suppose."

I laughed at the last bit. When we were pups, Matthias had frightened the living daylights out of us. Joking about his scary-ness had become an inside thing for us. But Mischa didn't join in this time. Something tightened in her throat when she spoke again, but her voice was soft and calm.

"No, I don't speak to Riordan much at all. Your Uncle is well. He blesses us all with his kindness."

I gave her a sideways look. "Oh, does he?"

Mischa reached the polished double oak doors that led to my rooms. She opened them, and held out her arm to usher me in.

"Of course," she said. "He is a generous leader. He has great plans for you, too, Corrine."

I raised an eyebrow as I walked past her. This was only getting wierder and wierder.

* * *

I let out a sigh and sank deeper into the lavender-scented bath. Mischa sat on the lip of my marble tub, and ran an ivory-handled brush through my wet hair. My room was lit by torches in brackets set along the stone walls, and by the softer glow of candles around the tub. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth. My bed beckoned invitingly, covered in rich furs and silk. I wanted to crawl into it and sleep for a year. This was my home, my safe haven. I should be completely at ease.

Why, then, did the memory of Lucian's kiss haunt me?

I lifted a toe out of the sudsy water and played with the brass faucet.

"Mischa?"

"Yes?" She paused her humming, but kept the brush moving through my hair in soothing strokes.

"How long have you been bedding Uncle Matthias?"

There was a hiccup in the brushing. I continued. "I can scent him all over you. I don't mind, but.." There was no response. "Well, it's truly none of my affair. Forgive me."

"No.." Her voice was very quiet. When she continued brushing, the movements were slightly jerky. "A few months ago, the Packmaster summoned me. I met him in his chambers, and this is what he required of me. He sends for me most nights, since then. I am his favourite."

I listened, turning slightly green as I did so. This was no uncommon thing in wolf packs, the need to perpetuate the species demanded it. The Alpha male could take whatever suitable young female he wished; truly most of them were tripping over themselves to win his attention. Mischa would be greatly envied.

But.

"What about Riordan?" I wondered again. Mischa took a slow breath.

"He's gone rogue. Lone Wolf." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I don't think he could bear the thought of..."

She stopped herself, and swallowed quickly. I turned to face her, and took her hand in both of mine.

"Oh, Mischa..."

She blinked quickly, and smiled. "There's no reason for sorrow, Corrine. Matthias is gentle, and generous. Truly, it is my honor to serve the pack."

Mischa stood quickly then, and went to fetch my towel; unable, I think, to face the pain and sympathy in my eyes. Niether she or Riordan were high-ranking pack wolves. She was submissive, and gentle. Riordan was brave, but young, and nowhere near capable of challenging Matthias. That he'd chosen to go rogue and risk death alone, rather than stay and watch Mischa do my uncle's bidding, spoke volumes of the love he felt for her.

My heart ached for the two of them.

And yet, it was pack law. It had always been this way. It would always be this way. Only the Dominant, those with enough strength of will and body, could have their own lives.

Only the strong survive.

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	12. Chapter 12

I slept fitfully. I had hoped that here, in my homeland, in my childhood bed, I could escape it. But my nightmares mirrored reality.

I was running, and I was exhausted. But nowhere was safe to stop. I was being chased; hunted. No matter how fast or far I ran, the footsteps were always right behind me. I was terrified. In the distance, I heard a Lycan howl. The sound was agony. I sat bolt upright in bed.

I threw off the pelts that covered me, clutching my heart while my sides heaved. Just a dream, just a dream.

And yet, it wasn't.

Again I heard the Lycan's cry. I heard it perfectly, but I knew the sound was three thousand miles away. It was haunting, and tortured. I curled in on myself, wrapping my arms around my legs to hold myself together. It was Lucian's cry. The call of a wolf for his lost mate, his soul, his other half. It was the lonliest sound in the world.

It was the sound of a heart ripping in two.

I lay my head on my knees, and squeezed my eyes tight shut. The howl ripped through my chest like razor wire.

Tears leaked out from under my long lashes.

* * *

I slipped through the door into Uncle M's softly-lit rooms. I padded quietly around, doing my best not to disturb him. Of course, sneaking up on my uncle was next to impossible. Still, I did as little to draw attention to myself as I could.

Matthias stood in front of the enormous marble fireplace in the center of the room, one hand braced against the mantel, staring into the flames. The fire flickered busily, casting a golden light on his face, his expression brooding and contemplative. My uncle was a handsome man. All chiseled jaw and raw cheekbones. His black hair fell in his eyes, and the gold in them reflected the firelight beautifully. He wore a light robe of midnight black, trimmed at the edges with a gold design that matched his eyes. It was open to the waist, showing a full eight-pack of toned muscle. Matthias was near his eighty-fifth birthday, but he was still close to his physical prime. Immortality, and all that. He was an intimidating presence.

I stood with my hands clasped in front of me, head dipped respectfully. I wore the ice-blue robe Mischa had given me, and my blonde hair hung down my back, brushed till it shone like spun gold.

Matthias turned his attention to me and his face was still thoughtful, a crease forming between his eyebrows. He moved to sit in the high-backed leather chair that I remembered so well from past talks, when I'd required lecturing. Broken curfews and angry parents had been a normal part of my childhood. Matthias motioned me to the duvet opposite him.

"Sit, niece."

I did so, quietly, and waited apprehensively for the next words out of his mouth. He had his chin in one hand, tapping a finger against his bottom lip slowly.

"Tell me how you've been, Corrine. How are your studies?"

I blinked quickly, realizing that I'd been expecting to be reprimanded like the wayward child I'd been the last time I'd seen him. But his tone was sincere, if a little formal. Warm and fuzzy would never be Uncle M's thing. I offered a tentative smile.

"I love college, Uncle. I think you would approve of my curriculum." I chose my words carefully, not wanting to give away the part about fighting vampyres and mating lycans; two extra curricular activities my uncle would certainly not appreciate. Wolves could smell a lie.

"I am proud of you, Corinne." The corner of his mouth lifted in a small half smile, then dropped. "But tell me. What made you run? You were half-dead when you arrived, starved and exhausted. Have you forgotten how to fend for yourself, my niece, or is there something troubling you?"

I swallowed and tried to stop the blush from rising to my cheeks. His concern touched me, but I opted for a safe half-truth. "I missed my home, and my family." I kept my eyes down, focused on the carved claw feet of his chair resting on the bearskin rug. My hair fell forward, covering my face.

Matthias leaned towards me in his chair, and reached out. My heart pounded in my ears. He took my chin softly in his hand and tilted my face up to the light. I met his bright yellow-gold gaze as he assessed me. Direct eye contact can be read as a challenge for dominance, but he seemed to approve.

"You have been missed as well. You've grown into a beautiful woman, Corinne." His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. He leaned back in his chair, and pinned me with a suddenly guarded gaze. "You know the legacy of our family, niece."

I nodded, I knew it well. In every generation, the magic of our bloodline was passed to one descendant; the white wolf. It was something to do with our family coming from the first of the shape-changers. In Uncle M's generation, the white wolf had been his older brother, my father, Jeroth. We had the ability, if we so desired, to look into a man's eyes and see his heart; to know his true form, and hear his thoughts. It gave us absolute power, and dominance over that person. I'd never done it myself, but I probably hadn't grown into the ability. Nontheless, it was mine, and so was the responsibility, as it had been my father's before me.

"Then you realize, one day, you will assume leadership of the pack." Matthias' voice was neutral now, and calculating. "Will you challenge me for it, Corinne?" He asked, politely.

My heart jumped to my throat, and my eyes snapped to his face. A challenge ended in one thing. Bloody, painful, messy death by one wolf or the other. I pictured Matthias in my mind's eye; four hundred pounds, seven feet long from the tip of his tail to his nose, and four feet tall, snarling mouth filled with inch and a half razor-sharp fangs, and a full complement of three inch claws on each paw. He would slaughter me. And yet, how else had I expected to take my position? Could I really imagine my uncle stepping aside gracefully? Surrendering to perky, blonde, college-girl me the post he'd commanded with brute force and general bad ass-edness for fifteen years?

My heartbeat pounded lightning fast in our ears, and the scent of my fear hung in the air between us. Yet, I kept myself still, holding my head high and meeting his gaze bravely. My reaction seemed to please him. He leaned forward again slightly, earnestly. His robe gaped open over his glistening and well-defined chest.

"You are of age now, Corinne. You may challenge me whenever you wish. And I cannot step down meekly. It is not in my nature, niece. You know this. I cannot live out the rest of my years in forced retirement. And yet, I do not wish to fight you." He held a hand out to me, palm up. His gorgeous gold eyes were pleading. "I have another solution."

I swallowed hard with a dry mouth. "What is it?" My palms were sweaty against my gown, and I was dangerously close to hyperventilating. When he spoke, I almost didn't catch it.

"Join with me."

I blinked, and raised my eyebrows. "What?"

Matthias was bright with excitement as he continued. "Take me as your mate, niece. Join with me, and we can rule together. A perfect Alpha pair."

Well.

If there was ever an appropriate time for hyperventilation.

I took in one long breath, and blew it out like I'd been suckerpunched. My head whirled, and my vision began to blur a bit at the edges. I worked the muscles of my mouth to speak.

"What?" I said, again. There seemed to be no other word left.

"We will lead the strongest pack in the history of our kind, Corinne." Matthias rose and came to stand in front of me. He took my hands in his, and pulled me to my feet. "Please, niece. Stand by my side, and take your rightful place." He took my chin in his hand again, and traced his thumb gently across the flawless cream flesh of my cheek. "I promise to treat you fairly, and cherish you as a true soulmate."

A wave of nausea crashed over me. Truthfully, the animal side of me saw the wisdom in his proposal. Little did wolves care about genetics or inproprieties. Logically, for the good of the pack it seemed to make the most sense. But I couldn't stomach the idea. And Lucian's face floated behind my eyelids. With sudden passion I ripped my hands from Matthias' grip, and shoved his chest to get away.

"No!" I cried, and scrambled a safe distance to the right, my heart pounding and my chest rising and falling sharply with adrenaline. I faced him, my every instinct set on the defensive. He stood unmoving, not looking at me.

"This is your answer, then?"

"Please, Matthias." I pleaded. "There has to be another way."

He rounded on me slowly, and he was scary as fuck. His eyes glittered pale yellow, his fangs descending and claws running out from his fingertips. He began to move towards me.

"There is no other way, niece," He growled out the words. "For fifty years I watched your father take my place. He was _weak._ He was _soft_. He was unfit to lead the pack, I've done ten times the good for our people that he ever could. I've made them _strong. _I was right to kill him."

I gasped. I had been backing away from him as he talked, but surprise from his confession froze me, and he lunged viciously. Knocking furniture around violently, Matthias got one hand around my neck and threw me to the floor. I kicked and scratched furiously, but he pinned me down with his weight. His crushing grip on my throat cut off my screams.

Lucian was suddenly in my head with me, a calming presence in my panic. I wasn't certain if I'd reached out for him, or he'd finally busted through my defenses. But I was desperately glad he was there. _Lie **Still**!_ he ordered me, his voice urgent and commanding.

It was hard, my entire frame was trembling with convulsions, the urge to fight for my life predominant. But I tried. Matthias had his nose by my ear, scenting me. His hot breath on my neck made me shiver. A violent snarl from Lucian echoed in my mind, and I felt the full strength of his posessive, protective desire to rip out Matthias' throat. Another time, I might have balked at that. But right this second I was totally on board. Matthias growled in my ear.

"You will submit to me, or die. Like your dear father, Corinne. What will it be?"

In my head, Lucian plead with me to be still. _Submit to him. Stay Alive. I'll come for you._

But anger bubbled up in me as my parent's faces flashed before my eyes. A snarl ripped itself from my chest, and I tore a hand free from Matthias' grip. With all my strength, I slashed five claws across his face. Blood sprayed the room and Matthias howled in pain and rage. With the hand around my neck he lifted my head up and slammed it back into the stone floor brutally. I saw stars, and heard Lucian's answering hiss.

Then, all wild eyes and sharp fangs, Matthias lowered his mouth to my neck, and bit deep.

I choked on a scream.

**:) Want more? you know the drill. New chappie goes up after ten reviews! Appreciate you guys**


	13. Chapter 13

**! WARNING ~ the following material contains graphic imagery and content that some readers may find disturbing. In case you hadn't realized, dark and twisted is kind of my style. UNDERWORLD is a dark and intense series. This isn't Twilight. I welcome critiques. But I won't change my writing to suit any person but me. :) thanks.**

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With his teeth sunk deep in my flesh and my hot, sweet blood coursing down his throat, new knowledge came to Matthias.

The taste of Lucian was in my blood as he drank, and images from my mind flashed between us. He saw me with Aidan in my dorm room; me naked in an alleyway with my side laid open and surrounded by drooling monsters; Lucian cradling my head and feeding me from his wrist under silver moonlight; my wolf self leaping between a vampyre's sword and a lycan's flesh, tearing out vampyre throats and ripping off limbs like Christmas; and finally, horridly, in bed with Lucian, our hands all over each other, kissing each other as though it was our last night on earth. It felt like a blow to the gut, being forced to share that passionate and private moment.

His eyes opened wide with horror, and Matthias released me. He leapt back from me as though my flesh burned, and let out an unearthly scream of rage and indignation. I gulped clean gasps of air down my crushed windpipe, and pulled myself groggily to a half-sitting position. Matthias stood over me, livid and covered in blood. I met his eyes with fierce defiance.

"You _traitorous bitch!_" He spit the words at me, loathing evident in every syllable. "You've betrayed the pack, turned your back on your own kind, you treacherous lycan-loving _whore_."

Rage of my own rose inside me, and I spit out a snarl in return. "He's _twice_ the Packmaster you'll ever be. You took your place through murder and betrayal! You didn't have the guts to face my father in a proper challenge! You filthy **_coward_**_."_

With a hiss Matthias advanced on me, his hand drawn back to strike. But at the last moment he paused, the expression on his face shifting from fury to calculating as he realized things. Grinning, he reached down and plucked me up by the throat again, lifting me off my feet. I grabbed his wrist with both my hands.

"Now, niece. That's no way to talk to family." He raked my body with a hungry gaze that left me feeling molested, and filthy. "And it's of no consequence. The council will never listen to you now, and the pack will never follow you. You've been tainted by the poisoned blood of that mutant _half-breed._"

In my head I could feel the buzzing of Lucian fairly shaking with the desire to wreak carnage and destruction. His frustration at being powerless to help me from a distance was overwhelming. I felt guilty, but there was nothing I could do about it at the moment. Hind sight is twenty/twenty and all that.

Not seeming to be phased in the least by my weight, Matthias dragged me across the room, and threw me against the mahogany frame of his four poster bed. The wood cracked as I bounced off it and crumpled to the floor, gasping. My uncle took a handful of my golden hair and yanked back, exposing the vulnerable flesh of my throat.

"You are worthless." He hissed it into my ear while he pulled me up to my feet, digging a clawed hand into my waist and pressing my back into his chest. I felt the heat from his skin. "A Lycan's bitch. I could take you now, and leave my mark on your body. How would he feel about that, I wonder?" He ripped at the shoulder of my robe, exposing my top half to the cool air. I gasped, and felt heat rush to my cheeks. Matthias laughed.

"Modesty doesn't become you, Corrine." I cringed as I felt his rough hand on my naked breast, his claws nicking holes in sensitive flesh and drawing blood. In my mind, Lucian was a red haze of pure fury. But there was nothing he could do. I felt helpless. Disgusted, yes; and nauseated, but helpless and also weak. A very strong part of me wanted to submit. I knew the pain would stop if I did; that Matthias would reward my good behaviour; that if I allowed my will to be broken I would no longer be horrified by this, or scared or ashamed. That I would cease to care, and even feel some small measure of satisfaction in pleasing my Alpha. How much easier that would be. To have no will of my own.

But I couldn't do it.

I let out a cry, and whirled in his arms. I sunk three claws in his shoulder, and kicked sharply at his kneecap. He slackened his grip in surprise, and I wrenched myself away. His claws at my waist tore deep furrows as I escaped. But I was free of his grasp, and screamed bloody murder for help. I got myself again out of Matthias' reach, and faced him, poised defensively.

What picture we made for Serath and Gabriel; Matthias' second and third-in-command; when they arrived. I was half-naked and half-crouched in the corner, my hair a mess and blood running down my side. My eyes were wild and cold blue, and my upper lip was pulled back to show my elongated canine teeth. Matthias stood by the bed, his robe in ribbons, blood running from his shoulder, and his face an angry, bloody mess of claw marks. Glittering gold eyes shot daggers at me from the gore. He raised a crimson claw to me accusingly. Serath and Gabriel looked from him to me and back again, their eyes wide with shock.

"_Restrain that whelp._" Matthias rasped, his voice hoarse. Obediently, Gabriel moved toward me, but Serath put a hand on his shoulder and held him back. A strong and scary wolf in his own right, he assessed the situation on his own quite quickly.

"What, exactly, has happened here, my lord?" he asked.

Matthias looked ready to explode at any moment, so I piped up quickly.

"He attacked me, Serath. I only defended myself." I turned my eyes to him, pleading for him to understand the truth. Serath had grown up with Matthias, he was old enough to remember my father's leadership. And he'd watched me grow up as well. He knew me. "I refused him, and he forced himself on me. He's a liar, and a traitor. He _murdered my father._"

I hissed the last bit, hurling the words at Matthias like a weapon. Serath turned to him, his expression full of shock and disbelief. Matthias growled.

"I see how little faith you hold in me, brother." He hissed. "Scent the whore for yourself. She's betrayed us. She tried to seduce and murder me, in an attempt to take control of the pack. But she reeks of _Lycan._"

My heart dropped as Serath came toward me, his face serious. His nostrils flared slightly, and his face hardened to an inscrutible mask. Matthias grinned in satisfaction.

"She's _mated_ one of the mongrels. They've conspired together to overthrow my command. Take her to the cages. Tomorrow night the Council gathers for full moon. We shall let the Elders decide her fate."

"Please Serath," I begged, as the both of them came to take me by the arms. "Let me explain."

But the lycan scent in my blood had sealed my fate. Not one wolf would look me in the eye as they dragged me out of the room, and downwards. They threw me into the cells underneath the mansion. Great giant cages made of silver-coated steel bars, specifically designed to hold loup-garou in human or wolf form.

They dropped me ungraciously on the straw-covered stone floor, and I heard the clang of metal locks behind me. In some ways, it was a huge relief to simply be alone. My entire body ached.

A patch of moonlight fell on the floor from the barred single window. I crawled over to it, and curled myself up into a ball inside it.

**Ten reviews, dears. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N awe, :( may I just say how sad I am that you guys hate Matthias so much? I must have done too good a job making him creepy. He's actually one of my favourite characters, in my head. :) He's like my Viktor, but hott.**

* * *

I was fairly certain my family had just given the Lohans a run for the title of World's Most Dysfunctional Genepool. What a mess.

My scalp was tender and I was certain I'd lost at least one handful of hair. My throat was crushed from Matthias' stranglehold. My back was one solid bruise where I'd collided with the mahogany bedframe.

I could forgive my uncle for a lot. I understood that the mating proposal honestly was his attempt to resolve things peacefully, and I believed had I accepted, he would have honored his word and treated me well. Wolves do not care about genetics. Always and forever, they do what is best for the pack. And in his own twisted way, that is what Matthias had always tried to do.

I could also forgive him for the solid whipping he'd given me. It was no more than I'd asked for. He'd given me two options. They were fair, they were only two options any pack wolf ever had. Submit, or fight. By refusing his proposal, I'd challenged him. Alpha challenges end in death.

The thing I could not forgive him for, the reason I would kill him, was the death of my parents. Had Matthias killed Jeroth in a fair fight, and won his Alpha seat, I would have accepted it. It is the way of our kind. But Matthias could never have beaten my father fairly. He knew that. He chose a coward's path, he was a murderer, he deprived our people of their strongest leader, and he'd killed my mother as well.

I shifted on the rough stone floor and felt the movement tug at the claw wounds Matthias had left at my waist. I pulled the blood-drenched material away from the gashes to get a better look. The blood had stuck in places and removing the cloth made me hiss in pain.

"Keep pressure on it." I heard Lucian's voice as though he was speaking beside me. It startled me for a moment and I looked around, making sure I was alone in the cell. Reassured, I turned my attention back to the wounds and answered him back out loud.

"I know what to do." I muttered.

"You're picking at it." He pointed out.

I blew out a breath in frustration, and pressed a wad of cloth against the jagged tears.

"Why do you even care?" I asked.

He was quiet for a minute, but I could feel that he did.

"I'm not entirely sure." He said, and I could hear a hint of a sad smile in his voice. "But it does seem to be my turn to save your life. Again."

I gave a soft snort and smiled. "We do seem to be doing that in shifts, don't we?"

"Indeed." He remarked, drolly. "And it would make my job so much easier if you could refrain from running off halfway across the continent, next time."

I winced. "Sorry."

I caught a brief flash of panic and the memory of Matthias pinning me to the floor by my throat. But I caught it from Lucian's angle, and experienced a moment of his helplessness. I felt guilty. If I had been the one watching...

"_Really_ sorry." I said, quietly.

"It's fine," he said, still dryly, "Running three thousand miles away on foot is a perfectly normal reaction to being kissed."

I flushed. "That.. is _not _why I left."

He was patiently quiet then, and the unspoken question hung in the silence between us. _Why, then?_

I blushed a shade darker. "You really don't need to be involved in all this, you know. It's my mess, I'll deal with it. You don't owe me anything."

There was silence for a moment, and I sensed eyes rolling. When he spoke again it was in a tone that brooked no arguement.

"I'm coming."

There was a silence, and then I'll admit I sniggered a bit. But quickly composed my face. Lucian let out a slightly exaggerated sigh.

"Youth." He said, in mock despair. I laughed. And quickly wished I hadn't. Now that shock had worn off and I could feel the pain, I was quite certain I had a few broken ribs. I squeezed my eyes tight shut, and focused on breathing. Lucian was deathly quiet as I swallowed my hurt, and when he spoke again his voice was subdued, but lethal.

"I'll kill him." He said.

"Believe me, I've already tried." I replied. I kept my tone light, and smiled a brave smile. But hints of the anger Lucian had bottled up had started to leak out. I began to get a sense of just how much of it there was. And how catastrophic it would be when the lid finally blew. I was afraid. The image of Lucian and Matthias facing off came to my mind. Now especially, since I'd felt firsthand my uncle's massive strength and rage, that picture scared me.

"Please don't." I asked, in a small voice. It seemed to deflate Lucian's bloodlust a bit.

"Is that all the confidence you have in me?" he asked gently.

"I don't want to see you hurt." I answered honestly.

"Your concern for my well-being is touching." A hint of acid colored his tone, and it wounded me. I curled tighter in on myself and withdrew slightly from the voices in my head. Lucian blew out a breath, clearly frustrated.

"Forgive me," he said, softer now. I fidgeted with the hem of my sleeve, hesitant, but listening. He continued. "You're an infuriating woman, little wolf. You've completely up-ended my world. You appear out of nowhere, wreak havoc with my mind and my desire, and disappear just as quickly. "

I raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"I have existed for centuries, fueled only by rage and revenge, completely numb to the other sensations in life. You've taught my heart to beat again. I care for you, little wolf. What have I done to frighten you away?"

I opened my eyes again, but not to the dismal sight of my dank prison in my physical surroundings. I opened my mind to Lucian, and saw his face in front of me. His confession pulled at my heart. And, well, as long as we were admitting our deepest secrets...

"It wasn't you. Every experience I have had of you, and everything that I have witnessed, has shown you to be a man of courage, loyalty and love." I spoke matter-of-factly, to start. "You're strong, and beautiful, and brave. I admire you, I respect you. You've crept into my heart, and I love you." I lost my confidence, and my voice dropped to a whisper on the last three words. I let the rest out in a rush.

"It_ was _fear that made me run. Fear that I would lose my family; fail my responsibilities, ruin my father's legacy, and throw away everything for you. The things that I would sacrifice to be with you, and sacrifice them willingly, scare me. It's me I'm afraid of. "

_And now, I **have** failed my father. Failed my pack. My people._

_ What if I mess this up too?_

_If we each only get one shot at true happiness, how frightening it is to know that the smallest mistake can make you miss the mark. _

I only thought the last bit, but of course he heard it. I felt his warmth around me like a physical embrace.

_You, little wolf, _he thought_, are my living proof of second chances._

AWWW so sappy and romantic. :) Worth the wait? Or was it too much?


	15. Chapter 15

I slept the sleep of the dead through the next day, a deep healing unconsciousness. And when I woke again, the pink rays of sunset were falling through the bars of my prison, and leaving soft glowing shapes on the stone floor. Everything seemed much clearer, and in sharper focus. The incident with Matthias was fresh in my mind, the details seared into my brain with adrenaline clarity. My body tensed as I brought myself to full consciousness.

In a fuzzier recollection was the memory of my conversation with Lucian. So soft and warm was the memory, that I was half-certain I'd dreamt the entire thing. I pulled myself up into a sitting position, my body sore and my joints stiff from sleeping on unforgiving stone. I shook myself, and stared at the soft multi-hued light leaking through the tiny high grate window. I reached for Lucian's thoughts.

I found nothing.

Terror leapt in my chest, and I clawed franticly at the space in my mind where the link had been. It couldn't be real. I couldn't be... alone.

A rustling came from behind me, and a soft clanging of metal. I scrambled around in panic, my body set on high alert, and on the defensive. Serath was at the door to the cage. He turned the key in the lock, and the barred door swung open. He didn't meet my gaze, but stood to the side. Behind him, Misha stood holding a tray with a basin and pitcher, a brush, and a length of cloth draped over her right arm. She came forward, and knelt beside me, setting the tray on the floor. I watched her warily.

There was a clang and I glanced quickly up to see Serath re-locking the door. He turned his back to give us privacy, his arms folded tightly across his chest and his head held high with authority. I looked at Mischa.

She too slid a sideways glance at Serath, pouring water from the pitcher to the basin while she did so. Then she raised her wide brown eyes to me, and there was fear and sympathy in them. A light bruise coloured her left cheek, and faint red lines marred her neck. The marks told me how my uncle had found release from his frustration with me the night before. Clearly Mischa had paid the price for my rejection. My jaw set in a tight line.

Dropping her gaze, Mischa dipped a cloth in the water basin, and wrung it out carefully. Gently, she began to bathe my blood-encrusted body. The water was cold against my feverish skin, and I shivered. But to be clean again was worth it. I settled into a sitting position, and sighed.

"Is it true?" Mischa spoke very quietly, barely above a whisper. Even so, we both knew Serath would hear her. "They're saying you've mated a Lycan, and challenged Matthias. That you've come home to take control of the pack. Is it true?"

Her voice was urgent, and scared. I looked at Serath, but he stood unmoving. I turned back to Mischa.

"That depends." I said, resignedly. "Yes, I've forged a mate bond with Lucian, the lycan general. And yes, I suppose I did challenge Matthias. But it was not my choice to do either. And my purpose in coming home was only to find comfort in my friends, and my family, whom I've missed with all my heart."

I reached out and took Mischa's hand with mine, my eyes begging her to believe me. "Lucian is a good man, Mischa. A brave and honorable leader. I trust him with my heart and soul."

She met my gaze only for a second, then dipped the cloth back into the basin. Red blood swirled in the water, making intricate patterns as it mixed. She worked in silence for minutes, until my skin was blood-free, and my tangled hair brushed straight. Then Mischa stood, and held out the cloth from her arm.

It was an even paler version of the ice-blue robe I already wore. It was beautiful, a ceremonial gown. Shimmering and slightly transparent material, with ceremonial markings embroidered around the edges. They were identical to the ones on Matthias' garments, only instead of golden thread, they were done in silver. They marked me as one of the Alpha's bloodline. The robe was beautiful, but ominous. Tonight was Full Moon. I would be presented to the council, openly claiming my birthright by wearing this.

Misha helped me into the robe, carefully straightening and tying. I stood still while she worked, my thoughts on the night ahead, and Lucian's absence. I had no idea what would happen tonight, but I was betting it wouldn't be pretty. Matthias could present his case before the council, and demand my execution. Perhaps they would simply agree to banish me, like Riordan. That seemed highly unlikely, as much as I'd pissed Mattias off. He could choose to allow my challenge to stand, and face me in a fair fight. I assumed that would be my best bet. But judging from earlier, it was still a hell of a long shot.

Mischa grabbed my wrist and squeezed it, her eyes darting furtively between Serath's back and my face. I blinked at her in surprise. I had accepted her silence.

"You have my loyalty." She breathed, urgently. "If you defeat Matthias, I will follow you. Many of the rest will, as well. Riordan..." Her eyes filled with tears at the mention of his name, and she swallowed around the lump in her throat. "You carry the magic of the loup-garou. It is your birthright, Corrine. Fight for us."

She bent over quickly and picked up the tray, not waiting for my response. I reached after her, but she was already at the door, and Serath was unlocking it. I met his gaze while he let Misha out. She stood behind him meekly, eyes downcast. He looked grave, and unhappy. Obviously he had overheard our conversation. My heart stuttered with fear for my friend, who had obviously declared her allegiance to me and not my uncle. Would Serath turn her in?

But he returned my gaze as he re-locked the door. It was serious, and unwavering, but not filled with malice. That was promising. A moment passed, and he spoke.

"I too, believe in the legacy of the white Wolf." He inclined his head toward me, reverently. His voice was soft, but firm. His eyes burned into my soul. "Take your place, my lady, and I will follow your lead, and trust your judgement."

With that, they both turned, and left. I watched until I could no longer see them. Their faith, so much stronger than my own, stunned me.

I swallowed hard around the emotional lump that rose in my own throat, and held my head high.

* * *

In the flickering torchlight, Matthias' eyes glittered a bright, wicked gold. He strode down the rank of men standing before him, his midnight black robe billowing out behind him. His face was still marred by the angry red marks of healing wounds. Wounds inflicted at Corrine's hand. He nodded at Gabriel as he approached the covered cart his men had pulled back to the mansion. Obediently, Gabriel stepped forward and grabed a handful of the canvas covering the cart's cargo.

With a flourish, he pulled it back. Mattias grinned beautifully, a wicked flash of gleaming white teeth, and approached the silver cage. He leaned in close to the bars, peering between them, and gave a quiet, evil chuckle of satisfaction.

The beast behind the bars turned a bright, gleaming eye on Matthias. A low, ominous growl rumbled deep within its massive chest.

* * *

I didn't have long to wait in my cell. When Serath returned with Gabriel, I was standing composed in the comforting patch of moonlight. I was searching myself, reaching inside for the strength and guidance of my ancestors. My father. Serath and Mischa's faith had restored some of my own, and I was resolved to do my best to live up to their hopes. My closed eyes flew open at the sound of Gabriel turning the key in the lock.

"It is time, my lady," he said, and stood aside. I hesitated only a moment, then stepped out. Serath shut the cage behind me, and I heard the clang of the bolt sliding home in the lock. Fear spiked in me, and for a moment I longed for the safety of the cage. It was much less frightening than what awaited me. But I snapped a lid on my fear before Gabriel could scent it, and fell in step behind him as he made his way up and out. I heard Serath's footsteps as he followed behind.

I reached again for Lucian's mind, and again found nothing. It was bitterly disappointing. It would be so much easier to face my fate if I could only feel his reassuring presence. I realized that I had grown very accustomed to it, and its loss left a giant, gaping hole.

His absence in my mind was also frightening for another reason. I now had no way to tell where he was, or whether he were alive or dead.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N I'm SO sorry my pets. My netbook cord died and I had to wait until my gorgeous amazing husband could bring me a new one. So, thank you Danley! ;) and without further ado...**

I blinked as I emerged from the underground darkness, and the full glory of the moonlight washed over me. It was beautiful. It bathed the mansion in its silver glow, and blanketed the courtyard, which was teeming with wolves. My pack. My bretheren. Who may soon choose to destroy me.

A whiff of familiar scent came to me as I followed Gabriel. But it was gone just as fleetingly, covered by the musk of hundreds of wolves. They were milling together in the courtyard, leaving a loose circle of clearing in the middle. Hundreds of bodies, red, brown, gray, black, cinammon, russet, tan, honey, and every shade in between, and all of their eyes turned to me. There also, in the center of the circle, were several human shapes.

As we came into the courtyard, Gabriel and Serath flanking me, I took a huge breath to steady myself, and let the crisp alaskan air burn my lungs and bring me focus. Torches burned in brackets on the marble pillars that circled the courtyard. The flames were reflected in my packmates' eyes, and the effect was eerie. Everything fell silent when we appeared, and the silence was ominous.

I let out my measured breath slowly, leaving a trail of mist. I lifted my chin, and held my head high. My long blonde hair was brushed free of its natural curlyness, held back in place by the jewelled pins Mischa had set it in. I felt my robe flutter out behind me while I walked, the silver in it reflecting under the moonlight. I felt every inch of what I was; the prized lamb being led to slaughter. The anger, and the distrust of the wolves around me was tangible in the air. Teeth were bared at me as I brushed past. Eyes were narrowed.

But if it was their choice to kill me, I would not go without a fight. I caught sight of Mischa in the crowd, a tall, beautiful chocolate animal with honey-coloured eyes. Her ears pricked forward, and her head came up hopefully, expectantly. I set my jaw with fresh determination, and turned my gaze to the figures in the circle. I stepped inside.

Six loup-garou stood behind Matthias in the courtyard. Two women, and four men. Technically, they too were sworn obedience to the Alpha; loyal to Matthias' command; but they were ancient. The oldest of our kind. Three thousand years were spanned between them, and we listened to them, because they had been wise enough to survive the centuries, and they had seen the rise and fall of several Alphas in their long lives.

They watched with general apathy as I approached, and stopped just inside the courtyard, flanked by Serath and Gabriel on both sides. The excitement of the pack, fear, anger, suspicion, hope and anticipation, were practically buzzing in the air. But the elders remained emotionless. Either they had really great poker faces, or they were not impressed by my alleged transgressions. Matthias, however, was alive with excitement. He, too, maintained his composure, but his eyes were bright. Barely had I taken my place opposite the elders, when he stepped forward. He circled me slowly, hands clasped behind his back, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was ready to pounce.

"Corrine Vaelyna de Lette, also known as Braxton, Firstborn of the Firstborn, Heir to the magic of our forefathers and destined Mistress of this pack." His voice grew louder, and more powerful with each word of my title as he addressed me, building ominously. "_**You**_ have_ betrayed your bretheren_."

Yips and barks of disapproval accompanied this accusation, echoing around the courtyard. Matthias stopped directly in front of me, his eyes ablaze with satisfaction. He pulled back his upper lip in a sneering smile. He continued his enumeration of my crimes, his voice loud and confidant for all to hear.

"You have interfered with the Children of Corvinus, and exposed this pack to their mutant, poisonous disease. You have betrayed our existance to the beasts. You have shared our most precious secrets, and you would_ taint our bloodline _with their filth. You have _mated_ the Lycan packmaster, Lucian, and with him you now wish to challenge _my_ leadership. What do you say for your actions?"

I met Matthias' stare with icy resolve, an open challenge in my eyes. Barks and howls, more cries of outrage echoed around us. I waited for them to fade away, never breaking eye contact with my Uncle.

"Guilty_._" I said, in a calm, clear voice that carried to every ear across the silence. Shock, whether from my indiscretions or my open admission I didn't know, broke out across the audience. Even the Elders blinked, taken aback. Obviously, this situation was not a common problem.

If Matthias was surprised by my honesty, he didn't show it. Perhaps his evil glee outwieghed the rest of his emotions. He sneered, and turned away from me. He paced the perimeter of the courtyard, his eyes meeting the gazes of his wolves, his voice whipping them into a frenzy.

"**You have your confession!**" He bellowed, his hands held out to the crowd. Raemus, one of the Elders, three centuries old but still blonde and broodingly sexxy, stepped forward as if to speak. But Matthias overrode him. "She cannot deny her crimes."

He came back to me, face to face, and he managed to look regretful, when I knew he was anything but. "My own niece," he said, his voice slightly softer, his gaze sad. His portayal of the betrayed and devastated mentor was being eaten up by his followers. They were holding no pity for me. Panic began to rise in my chest. My uncle's eyes hardened, and he raised his voice again, and now it was sharp and biting.

"_How shall we punish her?_"

Howls and yips of excitement answered him, and the pack milled hungrily outside the circle. Beside me, Serath tensed. Fear bubbled up in me. This was not how it was supposed to happen. I had thought that I would at least get the chance to explain my actions. Obviously, the Elders had thought so as well. Looks of shock and confusion crossed their faces, and a few took steps forward, but clearly they had no better idea than I what to do to diffuse the situation.

Apparently, Matthias was holding a kangaroo court. The pack had scented blood in the air, and they were ready to start a feeding frenzy. I looked around wildly, seeing fangs and eyes everywhere. And none of them friendly.

"No, wait-" I cried, forgetting my composure, and held out a hand pleadingly to my fellow shape-shifters, while Serath threw an arm in front of me and held me back. But no one was listening to me, anyway. This was all going horridly wrong. Matthias signalled someone in the rear of the crowd, and wolves began to make way as a huge cart was pulled towards the circle, trundling ominously. A whiff of the same familiar scent I'd smelled on Gideon earlier came to me, and my eyes widened. The cart was brought to the edge of the cleared space, and a harsh snarl rent the air as the canvas covering was ripped away, revealing the bright-eyed monster behind the silver bars.

"Let us teach the spawn of Corvinus who is the strongest race!" Matthias yelled, and pointed at the crate. Most of the wolves in the courtyard were frozen still in shock as they caught their first sight and scent of a true Lycan. "Let the traitor watch her beloved accomplice _die_!"

A loup-garou with gloves stepped forward and unlocked the cage. The second the door was free, a massive black Lycan in beast form burst out into the middle of the ring. It stood on its hind legs, threw back its head and roared to the heavens, baring gleaming sharp teeth.

Lucian.

At the sight of him, I lunged against Serath's restraining arm. Fighting, straining with all my strength towards the monster in the center of the circle. But Serath held me back. It all was happening so fast, too fast. Matthias began to prowl the edge of the circle, and I paused my struggling to watch his movements, eyes wide with fear. Lucian stood his ground, but followed my uncle with intelligent eyes.

This was not a fight I was willing to watch. I tried to work the muscles in my throat, but they too seemed frozen in fear. From where I was I could scent blood on Lucian, and I knew they'd had to hurt him badly to get him into that cage. I wondered why I hadn't felt that through our connection; and realized that even now I couldn't sense anything. We were completely seperate creatures once more. But for a moment, while I stared at him in terror, he looked at me. And I felt that sorrowful black gaze penetrate all the way to my soul. For a second, we were the only two beings in the universe. Then I lunged again against Serath's hold, but it was as strong as ever, and Lucian's eyes returned to my uncle.

Matthias had stopped, and pulled up several yards from Lucian. He glared at my lifemate, and bared his fangs. Lucian returned the favor. With one fluid motion, my uncle tore off his robe and leapt into the air, arms outstretched. For a brilliant moment, the soft light of the aurora borealis shone around him, shimmering in striking reds and blues. When he landed, it was on four enormous black paws.

The canine equivalent of cheering rose from the wolves around us as Matthias stepped forward in his bestial form. A ginormous black wolf with yellow-gold eyes and two inches of fang. On four paws he stood half as tall as the Lycan, and in sheer mass and weight they looked to be an even match, but Lucian didn't give Matthias the satisfaction of looking impressed. For a split second they stood, eyeing each other, and then my heart leapt in my chest as Matthias sprang.

Lucian barely had time to raise an arm defensively, and Matthias sunk his teeth into it as he came down, his claws raking furiously at Lucian's skin. But Lucian had the advantage in upper body strength, and managed to throw Matthias off. The wolf lit with a thud, and leapt back to his feet. Pissed, he lunged again, and the fight continued in a blur of twisted bodies and flashing tooth and claw; much too fast for the eye to follow.

An ungodly cacophany of growls and snarls and screams of pain filled the courtyard. The pack watched in awe, occasionally contributing a yip or bark of encouragement. The smell of blood was thick in the air.

My heart pounded loud in my ears, and I felt my breath start to come in sharp, quick gasps. I was hyperventilating. One long repetition of a prayer echoed in my head, formed into only a single cohesive thought. _pleasedon'tkillhim, pleasedon'tkillhim, pleasedon'tkillhim..._

I wasn't certain exactly who I was pleading to. I knew even if Matthias heard me, it would only spur him on. I felt my nails dig into the flesh of my palms, and draw blood.

A blood curdling cry assaulted my ears, and I opened the eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed. Matthias was again flying through the air, twisting as he fell, and landed with a crunching thud on his left side. I caught my breath as I watched. He didn't immediately get back up. I fought the urge to cheer, and looked excitedly at Lucian.

My excitement was premature, and short-lived. Lucian was down himself, on hands and knees, blood running freely from several nasty wounds. As I watched, he began to pick himself up, but it was slow and painful.

With growing trepidation, I turned my attention back to the massive wolf on the ground. Howls of pain sounded from the pack as they witnessed their Alpha's fall. His shoulder twitched.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N Sorry for the shortness dearhearts. I have been extremely busy and will be for a bit yet; but I thought I should at least put up what I have so far.**

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My heart sank to my toes when I saw Matthias start to move, his silky black fur ruffling as he twitched. My gaze flitted back and forth from him to Lucian, who was keeping himself upright by a thread. A pool of blood was forming at his feet. Matthias got his legs underneath him slowly, and managed to stand, though he was obviously hurt. A harsh, ripping, rasping snarl tore from his throat, and it raised the hackles on every wolf in the vicinity. His ears pinned flat back against his large black head, and blood dripped from the corners of his fang-filled mouth. Grievously injured he may be.. but a wounded animal is the most dangerous of all.

Matthias' eyes glittered menacingly in the moonlight as he looked around him at his pack. A new light entered them, and he threw his head back, and let out a wild howl. The hunting cry.

_He is a threat to the entire pack! _Matthias snarled. _Join with me, brothers! KILL HIM._

At his order, many other wolves took up the hunting call. Eyes bright and teeth bared, my brethren prepared themselves for the attack; dozens of huge wolves closing in a shrinking circle around my lycan. Lucian whipped his head back and forth, trying to face them all at once, but it was impossible. Terror tightened like a cold knot in my stomach as I watched my world about to crumble. I squeezed my eyes tight shut, screamed.

My scream was a pure, inhuman thing of rage and frustration and fear, and power; and it echoed around the courtyard and far out over the tundra in the frozen night air. As I screamed, I threw Serath from me with one arm in a great burst of strength. He collided with Gabriel, and they both crashed to the ground, dazed. Newly freed, I stepped forward with another cry, my arm outstretched and my finger pointed accusingly at Matthias.

"_**NO**__!_"I commanded, and every wolf looked at me. Again the echo of my voice rang loud in our ears, and it was the only sound. Part of me was as shocked at this turn of events as the rest of the pack, but mostly what I felt was power, pure and strong. I continued forward, walking towards my uncle, where he stood dumbfounded. With every step the mantel of power around me growing until the brightness of it shining through me was blinding.

The magic of our race comes to us from the Spirits of the North; the souls of every creature that makes this place their home. When they leave their earthly bodies and rejoin the spiritual plain they become the Northern Lights. These are the Great Spirits of change. They shift the seasons, the tide, the phases of the moon and the hearts of men with the transformative power of the Aurora Borealis. They provide balance in change, and it is this power that my people embody, and my ancestors channeled.

The cloak of the aurora covered me now, illuminating me from the inside out with soft, coloured light. The pack regarded me with awe, and silence, as I took the center of the circle, glowing as bright as our mother, the Moon. Matthias was as frozen as the rest. I locked eyes with him, and the power of my gaze kept him still. I kept walking forward, directly towards him, and as I approached I shoved myself through his mental defenses, and into his mind.

Matthias' thoughts were a dark roiling thing, like the ocean in a midwinter storm. Filled with hate and malice and ambition, they washed over me with like a cold, wet slime. But I caught and held him, pinned with a look. He couldn't raise his gaze to mine. Physically incapable of resisting. I forced my will on him, and took great pleasure in watching him bow and grovel. The rest of the pack watched in quiet awe.

"_Stay._" I whispered firmly, and turned my back on him. He was shackled in place by my command.

Fully aware that every eye was trained on me, I calmly walked over to the place where Matthias had shifted. I bent down, and picked up the black cloth of his robe from the ground. With it in hand, I went to Lucian, where he knelt on one knee in the center of the courtyard. The light of the aurora around me had dimmed to a muted glow, but my eyes remained vividly blue. I felt confident, and strong.

I reached the Lycan, and knelt beside the massive quivering beast. His head was down, eyes closed, and every breath was a laboured pant. I reached out with one hand, and placed my palm on his chest. He shuddered under my touch, and looked up, ears twitching forward. His eyes were bright and soulful when they met mine, and I nodded in reassurance. With a great sigh he released his inner beast, shifted, and the human Lucian knelt in front of me, naked and bloodied. I reached out with Matthias' wrap, and draped it over Lucian's shoulders. I cupped his cheek in my hand, and pulled his head to my shoulder. Wrapping both arms around him, I stroked his hair and murmured in his ear. I was excessively proud of him, and grateful. He accepted my comfort graciously, inhaling deeply with his nose buried in my neck. Reassuring himself with my scent, that I was alive and unharmed. I did the same. It was the sweetest relief.

With an arm around his waist I helped him to his feet, and we both turned to face our situation. Side by side, standing together, and equal match. The bloodied Lycan warrior and the magical glowing wolf princess. No sound came from the mob surrounding us, but the rising tide of uneasyness and fear was deafening. Clearly, I had claimed my mystical birthright. By law, this made the pack mine. But also clearly, I had thrown my lot in with the mutant beasts. Which law to uphold, and which to break? I felt the minds of my pack bretheren buzzing with indecision all arround us, while they watched. But that was not my immediate concern.

What I was concerned with, immediately, was the fate of the man who had proved himself to be the villian in the story of my life. The man who'd spilt the blood of my mate, myself, my friends, and my parents.

While the rest of the pack looked on in morbid fascination, I had eyes only for Matthias.

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**No promises about when I can update again, but I can promise that the wait is always directly proportional to the number of reviews I get tellin me to kick my butt in gear!**


	18. Chapter 18

I hated him. Truly, and with every fibre of my being. I recalled the night he'd attacked me, my pain, my fear and my blood in vivid clarity and colour. I had known then, and accepted, that one of us would have to die. But I hadn't hated him then. Now, with my arm around the waist of the man I loved; a man dripping red with the blood that was on Matthias' paws; I knew that I truly hated the man who'd raised me.

There were many offenses for which, in my mind, a man could be killed and killed justly. Cold blooded murder, abuse of the weak and innocent, and any attack on myself or my kin were things I would reward with a swift and decisive death, and be done with it. But now I found myself wanting more. I fisted my hand in Lucian's robe, and my body trembled from head to toe with rage. I wanted Matthias to suffer for what he'd done. I wanted to make an example, and send a message, that anyone who would lift a claw against my lycan would suffer a fate worse than death.

And what sentence was worse than death to a pack wolf? Especially to an Alpha, especially to Matthias, whose very existence was centered around his pack, and his power over them? What shame could I inflict on him, what humiliation, that would make him truly wish to die?

A vicious light came into my eye, and I stepped away from Lucian, my eyes riveted to Matthias' trembling, grovelling body. With my every step towards him he flinched as if from a blow underneath the power of my focus and hatred. Dimly around me, I was aware of the growing distress of my pack, still milling around the courtyard. As I drew nearer Matthias, they drew nearer hysteria. I could feel the anxiety in their thoughts, pulling at me. Half of them wanted to throw themselves between me and Matthias, to protect their sworn leader; Half of them wanted to tear out Lucian's throat themselves, and eliminate his percieved threat; but All of them were reluctant to challenge me. And well they should have been. They had all watched me stop their master in his tracks with a look, and a word. They knew he was a stronger wolf than any of them by half. My will was strong enough to break every one of them, individually. But truthfully, if they all rushed me at once I would not have the chance. It was a dangerous, powder-keg of a situation.

But I was careless, and I paid them no mind. I ignored them, and went directly to Matthias. His thoughts lashed at me like glacial waves from a wintry sea, roiling with hatred. I knelt down directly in front of him. I reached out and took his chin in my hand, gently. I lifted it up, until those intense gold wolf-eyes were forced to meet my cold blue. Holding my gaze caused him exquisite physical pain. But he made himself continue. I smiled at him.

In a lightning fast move I drew back my hand, lengthened with deadly claws, and struck him hard across the cheek. His face turned from me with the impact of the blow, and I stood up immediately after. I bared my teeth at him. He kept his face turned away, and tears of blood fell to the cobblestones from his matted black fur.

"_Pathetic._" I hissed down at him.

I knew Matthias' pride would not allow for this insult. And indeed, he began to slowly bring his face back around to me. He now bore criss-cross marks from my claws across that handsome face of his that he had so treasured, and while they marred his beauty they brought the evil stain on his soul to the surface, and made him look the part. He stared at me with pure menacing power, and hatred.

Matthias flung himself at me suddenly, ripping himself from the subserviant position I'd forced him into and taking to the air with his claws out and his fangs bared and destined for my throat. Behind me Lucian cried a hoarse cry and leapt towards us, but this had all been a part of my scheme. Using my new strength and speed, I knocked aside Matthias' clawing front paws with one hand and caught him by the throat in mid-air with the other. His breath left him in a choking gurgle, and I closed my grip tighter and lifted him up as though he were a wayward pup.

"_You_ were not born to command _me_," I hissed at him. I turned to face the elders and the pack, all of whom had fallen silent and were watching me with wide-eyed shock and awe. Lucian also was regarding me with new eyes, but they were eyes filled with pride, and respect. My heart expanded in my chest. I held up Matthias for my pack to see.

"I am my father's daughter, and I am claiming my place in this pack tonight." I made my words a declaration, and stared them all down as I spoke. "If anyone here wishes to challenge me, let him do so now."

For just a second, they all stared at me. It was an intense moment, and for a brief heartbeat I was afraid they would attack. And then Serath stepped toward me. I eyed him warily, but he stopped a respectful distance away, and went to his knees. He layed his head to the side, and with one hand pulled his shoulder length hair back, baring his throat to me. It was the old sign of submission.

Raemus knelt next, sweeping his curly blonde hair aside as well. The other elders followed, and then one by one the wolves in the courtyard threw back their heads and bared their necks to me.

This was the beginning of a new era. I looked around at my pack, and gave them a nod of approval. Then I threw Matthias to the ground in front of me, where he lay gasping and only semi-conscious.

"Matthias Sepharas Braxton," I said, softly mimicking the tone he'd used to accuse me earlier, "Second son of the white wolf, Grandson of the white wolf, Brother of the white wolf, and Kinsman to me," I watched dispassionately while he dragged himself to his feet. "_You _have the blood of your family on your hands."

Around us were shocked intakes of breath, and much yapping and barking. Matthias looked around through guilty, narrowed eyes.

"You murdered your brother in an attempt to usurp his position. In doing so you killed his mate. You challenged, attacked and imprisoned myself in an attempt to keep me from my birthright. And last but certainly not least, uncle dearest, you attacked _my_ mate, and unjustly ordered his death." I swept in front of him in a billow of ice blue material and golden hair illuminated by brilliant moonlight, and bared my teeth. "Were it only the first offences, I would kill you here and have it done with. But now, I think, you deserve to suffer. You will die slowly and in shame, and utterly alone. You are banished. I abdjure you."

I lifted a long slender finger and pointed toward the gates of the compound, and further out across the frozen tundra. "**_Go!_**" I screamed, viciously. And Matthias went. He ran, like a scolded puppy, thoroughly beaten and humiliated, and I watched him go until I could see him no more.

I saw Serath approach me in my periphial vision, but did not turn my head. He again stopped a respectful distance away, and dipped his head.

"It was well done, my lady." He said.

"Was it?" I asked, absentmindedly. I looked out at the place Matthias' tail had disappeared into the cold night, and wondered if I had just made a horrible mistake.

I felt Lucian's warm hand slide around my waist, and the comforting warmth of his body press against me. I looked up at him, and he gave me a firm nod of approval. It was the only affirmation I needed to calm my fears. But the events of the night were beginning to catch up with me, and I felt exhaustion begin to pull at my mind. There was, however, one item of business that could not wait for sleep. I tangled my fingers with Lucian's, and squeezed.

"My lady?" a cool voice at our shoulder asked. I turned, and found Raemus on one knee. He bowed his head and spoke quietly. "With your permission, we would lead the pack out on the hunt tonight. It may be best to let them work off the excitement."

I nodded smoothly at him, feeling the tingle of wild energy from the pack still high. It was wise advice. By rights, it should be me leading the hunt this night. And in my heart I longed to do so. But I regarded Raemus with warmth and gratitude for knowing I would not leave my mate this night, and giving me another acceptable option. He took my nod as assent, and layed his fist across his heart in the old salute, before standing and turning to walk away. I watched as he shed his pale gray robe, and shifted on the run. A beautiful animal, nearly all white fur, but with a dusting of honey-colored markings. While I watched, he threw his head back and sang the hunting song in a deep, pure voice. Around him, the other elders similarly disrobed and shifted, until there were only wolves surrounding us. One by one, they echoed Raemus' song, and followed him out into the night.

I stood, with Lucian's arm around me, and my back pressed against him, and watched them leave with longing. I felt Lucian's nose in my hair, and his hot breath in my ear, and a different, stronger longing took hold. My eyes became heavy-lidded with lust, and I began to lose myself to my senses.

A soft whine from nearby brought me crashing back, and my eyes flew open to see a small chocolate wolf standing in front of me, her eyes downcast. For just a moment I was disoriented, but then I recognized Mischa, and knew at once what she would have resisted the hunt to ask.

"Yes, go!" I told her, enthusiasticly. I fell on my knees in front of her, and threw my arms around her neck, ecstatic to realize that her happiness was now within my power to grant. "Find Riordan," I whispered, "and tell him he is welcome to come back, if he will. We would be honored to have him."

Her ears came up and her tail whipped the air, and she danced backwards from me, her nose whipping excitedly back and forth from me to the gate. I laughed and shooed her off.

"Yes, go on." I said, and she took off like a shot. Disappearing out across the moonlit distance. Far away, we heard a lone wolf howl, and I imagined it was Riordan.

For a night that had begun with my almost-certain death, it seemed to be turning into happy endings all around. I felt Lucian's hand fall on my shoulder, and I placed my own overtop of it warmly. With a grin, I looked up at him, and he pulled me up to stand in front of him. His mouth did not mirror my grin, and his eyes did not sparkle with excitement. Instead there was a deadly intensity in them, making them like twin dark pools. His dark hair was an untamed, sexy mess and blood trickled from his temple and down his cheek. He looked like a warrior home from battle.

My heart hammered in my ears as he fisted his hand in my hair above the nape of my neck, and brought my mouth to his in a conquering kiss.

**A/N**

** :) who votes for one more _verrrrrrrrry_ X-rated chappy?**


	19. Chapter 19

**Warning! This chapter contains sexually explicit material, and pure Awesomeness. :) If you are easily offended by awesomeness, please don't read my stories.**

**The rest of you, enjoy. **

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I supposed that tomorrow I would be moved into Matthias' old rooms. The Alpha always took the master suite in the compound. But for tonight, I brought Lucian to my rooms. A place that was familiar and comfortable, and not tainted with painful memories.

The torches in the brackets had burned themselves low, and the fire in the grate was barely more than embers. There was only a soft warm glow of light in the room, the kind of half-light that made eyelids heavy and intimacy natural. The flickering flames made Lucian's skin shine bronze underneath them, and the blood, smeared and dripping, looked black. But the scent of it was to me as heady and intoxicating as the finest wine.

I longed to lick him over from head to foot. To bathe him with my kisses and lap at his wounds like a kitten at cream. I led him to stand at the foot of my mahogany canopy bed, blanketed with furs and deeply inviting. I gently broke his hold of my waist and went to my knees in front of him, untying the sash that held his black robe shut. Lucian's body shuddered in surprise and pleasure as I pressed my lips to his head. He fisted his hands in my hair and let out a ragged sigh as he eased his length into my mouth. I took him slowly, relaxing the muscles in my throat. I dug my nails into the flesh at the tops of his thighs, kneading gently while I flicked my tongue at the base of his shaft. Lucian closed his eyes, and blew out a slow breath through clenched teeth.

Matthias had tried to force me into submission, to bully himself onto me, and had failed miserably. But here I took a subserviant position of my own accord, and found a different kind of power. I reveled in it.

I felt the slight tug at my scalp as Lucian pulled the jewelled pins out of my hair, and let it tumble down to my shoulders in soft golden curls. I continued to tease him with my mouth, and I heard the soft musical clatter of my pins falling to the floor, some of them missing the bearskin rug and striking stone. I felt the muscles in Lucian's legs tense under my fingers, and I purred, and kept up my ministrations. He sucked in an appreciative breath but stopped me, his rough fingers stroking my throat softly as he disentangled himself. My eyes sparked as he pulled me up to face him, and he crushed his mouth to mine. His hands gripped my upper arms with bruising strength, pinning me against his chest. I felt my nipples harden where they rubbed against him through the thin cloth of my wrap, and a flame of lust licked up to my heart from the growing fire inside me. I breathed a low moan into his mouth, and bit down on his lower lip. A drop of blood welled up from the bite and I swept it up with my tongue, the taste exploding in my mouth like water to a man dying of thirst.

Lucian moved one arm to my waist, and laid me gently on the bed. The feel of the silky pelts against my flushed and sensitized skin was seductive, and tantalizing. Lucian loosened the ties of my ceremonial robe and tore it open, exposing my chest to the cool air. I felt the warmth of his breath on my flesh, and then the wet heat of his mouth. I caught my breath in my throat. There was a searing white flash of pleasure-pain as he rasped a tooth over my highly sensitive nipple. I cried out and arched my back up off the bed, pressing the length of my torso against him. The contact of flesh-on-flesh was exhilirating, and comforting. I opened my eyes. Lucian looked down at me, leaning over me. He placed his hands on either side of my shoulders, holding himself up. His dark eyes burned with desire, and I felt the muscles in my stomach tense in response.

My breath was being torn from me in ragged pants, my stomach heaving. I lifted my hands to his chest slowly, feeling suddenly shy. My fingers shook slightly while I traced the outline of his contracting abdominal muscles, his skin glistening with sweat and blood. I stared, mesmerized. He shuddered under my touch. His eyes closed and his nostrils flared, and he leaned down to claim my mouth again. He nudged a knee between my legs and his tongue flicked at my lips, and I opened myself up to him. With one swift movement he connected us together, hips meeting and bodies locking in the age-old dance. Simultaneously, the bond between our minds reforged, and opened. A flood of emotion and desire passed between us. We both were still for a moment, letting our minds and heartbeats adjust.

I blinked and looked up at him, my hands on his shoulders. He turned, and pressed a kiss to my wrist, his lips soft and warm. He moved inside me, and I moaned. The friction was sweet and tortuous. I raised my hips to meet him, and we found a steady rythm. It was a tight fit, but a perfect fit. Both our minds were hazed with lust, too much so to even form words. But we shared our pleasure with each other, passing along sensations and teaching each what the other most enjoyed. It was a whole other, deeper level of intimacy.

I bit my lip and dug my nails into the flesh of his back. With Aidan, sweet boy that he was and eager to please, it had never been like this. I felt the raw power dripping off my bedmate, energy and carefully controlled strength. His body dominated me, covered me, and for just right now, I gave in and with relish. Other times I might challenge him, might playfully fight and test my strength against his, but always, always I would give myself to him in the end. He kissed my neck and I whimpered, feeling the simple thrill of a woman, offering herself to a man she trusts completely.

I felt the muscles in my stomach tighten, some knot deep inside me contracting and ready to explode. He sensed my shift and seemed to kick our bodies into a higher gear, harder and deeper and faster until it seemed it was all I could do to close my eyes tight and hold on, until he thrust us both over the edge and we were falling.

The mental link between us sparked and solidified, and for a moment, just a moment, we were not two seperate entities but one and the same creature. The shock and pleasure left me reeling. I felt a cry ripped from my throat, but I could hear no sound. My senses were robbed and dulled by the deafening pounding of my heart, and the red haze that was clearing slowly from my vision. I blinked to remove it faster, bringing myself back to reality.

And reality is looking pretty damn good.

Laying, panting and sweating and sated side-by-side, I feel totally justified curling up into a ball and falling asleep. Tomorrow will be the time for talking, for explaining, for adjusting to change. Tomorrow will be the time to hunt for Matthias' body.

But not tonight. Tonight is for rest, and peace, and happiness.

Tonight is a night for sweet dreams.


	20. Chapter 20

**MISCHA'S NARRATION~**

* * *

I pulled up short as I approached him, suddenly uncertain when faced with his cool waryness. But this was the man I had known since childhood, this was the man I loved. He was not the strongest wolf in the pack; he did not have the physical strength to challenge Matthias, and he did not have the supernatural power to dominate Corrine. But he had the strength of character to stand against what he didn't believe in, even when no one else stood beside him. He was strong enough to strike out on his own and live a barren existence in an unforgiving land.

My biggest regret, was that I had not had the strength to follow him.

Riordan stood and watched me in his wolf form, yellow-green eyes glinting in the moonlight. He stood still beside a large rock, his head slightly down, the ruffle of his gray fur in the breeze the only movement. I dipped my head slightly and took a step towards him, my paws padding softly on the frozen ground. A low growl stopped me in my tracks. It was a soft warning, not a threat, but it stung. I glanced up, unable to keep the hurt from my eyes. Riordan didn't blink. But he didn't run me off, either.

He didn't trust me. And how could I blame him? Had I ever done anything to show him I would stand up for him, or follow his lead? Never, I thought. And the realization stung. Well, I would, I decided. Now was a time for change, and I _could_ change. For him.

Under Riordan's watchul eye, I laid down on my side in the sheltered gully, and started to Phase.

When I was finished I lay there a moment, shivering and naked in the bottom of the gully, collecting my bearings. I felt the weight of his gaze on me and looked up, my human eyes meeting his wolf ones. He made a low rumble in his chest, and shifted his weight on his feet.

"It's me," I said. He didn't so much as blink. I mentally kicked myself. Obviously he could deduce that much on his own, genius. I blushed and searched for the words to continue.

"I'm sorry," I said, though the words were feather soft and quickly snatched away by the wind. But his ears pricked forward, and his head came up, tilted slightly to the side. I saw that I had his attention, and fairly tripped over myself with the rest of my explanation. "I am sorry, so sorry, about Matthias- But he's gone now. He's Banished. Corrine abjured him, she's home now, she's back and she's brought a Lycan, a big vicious thing that she's mated to and it's really strange and it doesn't make any sense, I know, but he seems pretty decent..."

I checked myself and blushed, biting my tongue as I realized I was beginning to ramble. Sitting naked out in the snow chattering nonsense into the wind. For a moment, I really wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Riordan stared at me for a moment, his golden eyes quizzical as his wolf brain tried to make sense of the things I had said. After a second he huffed out a breath, shaking his head in a snort that said he clearly didn't understand. But his tail twitched up a fraction, and he began to pick his way down into the gully.

There were really only about six steps of distance between us, but my heart pounded in my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it. When he finally approached me, it stopped altogether. He put his nose to my shoulder, and drank in my scent. He blew it out again with a soft sigh, and stilled. A wave of relief crashed over me more strongly than I'd expected, and I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I sank my hands into the familiar feel of his silky fur, and laid my cheek against his ruff. He was still for a moment, and just let me hold him. Then with a nudge, he backed away.

He nuzzled my side, shook himself all over until his fur stood on end, nuzzled my side again, and the trotted off in front of me. He stopped after a few paces, and glanced over his shoulder expectantly.

_Shift, _he said, _and follow me. _

The cold had started to get to me, and I could feel shivers racking my body. It made the shift a challenge, but in a minute I was wrapped up inside my own fur coat once more. I got to my feet and went to Riordan's side, where he greeted me with a nuzzle and a nip on the jaw. The playful interaction of Pack wolves. I whipped my tail in the breeze, and he gave me a wolfish grin. Then he took off at a lope across the tundra. I watched his glossy hindquarters go for just a second, and then I took off after him.

We ran for almost half an hour, throwing in the occassional nip or tussle along the way. It felt so good to be playing with him again, that I was almost sorry when we came to a patch of rocky terrain, and Riordan started to slow. I took that as a sign that we had reached our destination, and followed him into the rocks.

Riordan led me to a cavern that was half rock cave, half dugout-earth den. It smelled of musk and wolf, and smoke from a fire that was no more than smouldering embers now. There was a littering of bones along one wall, and a heap of pelts behind the fire-pit; mostly rabbit, but at least one Arctic fox was in the mix. I wondered when Riordan had found such a brazen rascal, willing to take on a loupgarou.

I hesitated in the entrance, but Riordan went right in and shifted, settling his muscled hindquarters on the fox pelt, and immediately leaning over to pluck twigs and tufts of dried tundra grass from a nearby pile. He leaned over still further, his face in shadow, and blew softly on the embers to coax the fire back to life. I watched him while he worked, the flickering glow making his skin look bronze and defining the muscles beneath it.

He looked thin. More so than when I'd seen him last. His face was all sharp angles and planes, with a prominent brow, long thin nose and strong muscular jaw. All these features were familiar, but somehow more defined. Carved deeper by the cold alaskan wind, perhaps. And new scars decorated his back and arms. His dark brown hair was longer, shaggy and to his shoulders. For all that though, he seemed healthy. And just as breathtaking as ever. But there was a new hardness to him now, something of the wild and feral clung to him like a second skin. It was a savage kind of strength that permeated his aura and bled out into the room around him. He looked up at me with those strange new inscrutable eyes, and I realised that my wolf self was still standing hesitant in the entrance.

I dropped my gaze and stepped further in, snuffling the ground while I approached the fire. I picked a spot directly across from him, but a respectful distance away. However, I hesitated for a moment with one paw still lifted. The effect of his scent in these close quarters and of my lingering visual inspection was beginning to make itself known. He couldn't mistake the scent my growing arousal, the tantalizing smell of the secretion of hormones and endorphins that my rebellious body had begun to produce. If I could have blushed in wolf form I would have, but it was not something I could easily control. No, the question now was whether I would shift shape, or stay in wolf form. If I stayed wolf, it would send the message that I wasn't interested in acting on my body's reaction to him; which was definitely untrue. Changing, however, would leave us both completely naked in undeniably close quarters that were thick with the scent of desire. That may have been, what was the human expression, coming on a little too strong.

I chose to remain four-legged, for the time being, and curled up with a regretful sigh beside the fire. Smoke burned my eyes as I watched the dancing flames, but I didn't notice. It gave a ready excuse for the tears that burned in the back of my throat. I desperately wished that I had the courage to initiate contact. To make the first move, to throw myself at him like a woman in the desert who had just glimpsed the first water in days.

But I was not a dominant wolf. There was not a bone in my body that had ever wished to force my will on others. I was submissive, and I knew my place on the totem pole. I shied away from violence, and found my pleasure and contentment in the act of pleasing others. At least, I had, until my developing womanly body had captured Matthias's eye. There was an instinctive part of me that wanted to please my dominant, my master. Whatever else he was Matthias had been my Alpha and my protector. But a larger part of me, my heart, a place that held no instinct or logic to speak of, had died a little more with every night I spent at Matthias's side. It had felt to me then that a part of my very chest was missing; distant, dying, and painfully wrenched away.

I was a little startled to realize that here, in this tiny smoke-filled hole in the ground three hundred miles from anywhere, I finally felt whole again. Complete. There was something here, in this tiny burrow, that I had finally found the courage to defy my dominant for. And I doubted that it was the Arctic fox pelt.

I lifted my nose and set it on one chocolate brown paw, and lifted my eyes to meet the steely grey ones that looked at me across the fire.

Riordan.

I sighed contentedly, something that came out as more of a huff from my wolf lungs, and I closed my smoke-stung eyes. For the first time in a damn long time, I felt something that vaguely resembled happy.

Happy, and safe.

* * *

I must have dozed off at some point, because when I woke up, the light from the fire was almost out. I shifted slightly, my muscles stiff and sore from lack of movement, but my muggy brain shied vehemently away from consciousness, and leaving the comforting relaxation of the best sleep I'd had in months. So I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled over clumsily, pulling my left arm under my head for a makeshift pillow and luxuriating in the feel of silky soft pelts beneath my bare skin. I moaned my appreciation and stretched my legs out against the fur, only top stop sort when the pad of my foot brushed warm flesh.

My eyes flew open and I froze perfectly still, letting the memory of the previous night come back to my sleep-addled brain. I looked around the burrow, blinking to clear my eyes, and saw the spot across the dying fire where I remembered curling up in my wolf self. Obviously, I was no longer there. I was in human form, clothes-less, and half-curled up upon Riordan's bed of furs. Also, now that I was awake, I was aware of the large warm body pressed at my back, of the sound of his heart beating and the feel of his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

I found myself unable to move, my breath caught by some strange sort of fear in my chest. Behind me Riordan shifted, and I felt the rough slide of a calloused palm on my waist. It was soft and unassuming, and equally so was the sudden soft press of a kiss on my shoulder. I felt his nose against my skin, and he nuzzled gently at the curve between my shoulder and my neck. My heart stuttered in my chest, loudly enough for us both to hear it. There was a soft exhalation of breath against my hair, and his hand slipped lower, around my stomach, until he could pull me back to lay against him, my head on his arm. I lay back and started to look up at him, but my eyes stopped at his lips, mesmerised by their soft curving shape. They parted slightly with a half-smile, and the rough pad of his thumb traced my cheek. And then, with the first surge of dominance I had ever shown in my life, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled those sinfully soft lips down to mine.

**-The End. - of Book 1. :) Book two will be coming shortly! Promise. But for now, anybody interested in reading more of my work should check out my Four Brothers fic, Pink Nail Polish and a .44 Slug. The fascinating tale of Jayden Clarke, artist and assassin, who battles mob thugs, psychotic religious cult leaders, and occasionally her own heart in her quest for vengeance and love with the ever-invincible and hot-headed Michigan Mauler, Robert Mercer.**

** Tell me what you think! Love hearing from you guys. :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Book 2**

**Night of the Silver Eclipse**

* * *

I felt sleep fading from me, receding and escaping like the ocean tide being pulled back out to sea. I fought it, digging in my heels and grasping with my fingers, but with no more effect than grasping a fistful of sand. Sleep trickled through my fingers and found its way back to the ether.

I batted my eyelids and shifted, the sensation of dull aching and heavy weariness making its way to my newly-woken brain. To combat the numbness in my left buttcheek, I stretched. My bare leg slid across the slick warm texture of wolf fur, one of the many pelts that blanketed my bed, and the cool sole of my foot made contact with warm skin. Jori made a mewling noise in her sleep, and curled away from my freezing toes. I yawned, and the soft sounds of breathing came to my ears, accompanied by the thwump-thwump of multiple heartbeats from the several sleeping young women in my bed. After a moment, I counted three.

Jori, Kayanni and Ilyana, my nose told me. My... handmaidens, for lack of a better term. Claiming leadership over a millenia-old pack of werewolves had given me more responsibility and youthful devotion than I'd reckoned for at the time. I felt movement in my stomach, and a sudden pinch in my bladder shoved me solidly into the wide-awake column. I sighed, and sat up, disentangling myself gently from the protective teenagers. Ilyanna shifted restlessly at the loss of my warmth, but a soothing hand from Jori stole around her waist, and they both fell back to soundless sleep. I gave them a half-smile, and made my escape to the bathroom next door to do the necessary things.

Unwilling to face the ensnaring tangle of arms and legs and feet in my gigantic antique fourposter bed, I turned right instead of left and made my way down the long hall to the kitchen. Even at this late hour, the hall was lit by dimly muted lights in ten foot intervals halfway up the walls. Although I didn't need it, werewolves having the excellent predatory night vision that we do, the warm orange light was comforting and familiar. It similarly lit every hall in the large, old stone labyrinth of a building that was the pack's family compound, and my childhood home.

I followed my nose to the kitchen, and rounded the last corner to see my best friend already sitting up to the black granite island counter, her long brown hair falling in soft waves and her delicate, purple-tipped toes swinging inches above the marble floor from her perch on a four-foot tall mahogany barstool. Seeing me, she hooked one of said feet around the leg of the next nearest stool and pulled it out from under the island's lip, patting the seat invitingly. I waddled over and pulled my weighted-down self up onto it. Mischa looked at me and grinned, moving her arm to reveal what I'd smelled from down the hall. The hidden stash of Haagen-Dazs chocolate ice cream.

"Looking for the good stuff?" She asked, sliding the tub of ice cream over so it sat evenly between us. I tugged it over more solidly into my territory, and nicked the spoon right out of her hand.

"Oh yeah," I agreed, shoveling in and starting to lick my ginormous scoop off the spoon like an ice cream cone. Mischa swatted my arm playfully, and reached for more silverware(that was actually stainless steel) from a jar on the counter.

"They keeping you awake, again?" Mischa asked, flicking her spoon toward my slightly swollen abdomen. I glanced down with her and sighed, feigning frustration, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah." I patted the seven-month bump. "Wild and restless. Just like their father."

Mischa smiled with me, and gave her spoon another lick. "Still sure they're boys then, are you?"

"Oh, positive." I stuck my spoon bowl-first back into the ice cream and leaned back, using my hands to trace outlines on the white cotton tshirt covering my belly. "This one," I said, indicating Baby A, "always starts the trouble. I can feel him kicking around, squirming and moving, until he jostles his brother." I circled a spot on the other side of my stomach, for Baby B. "Then the other one wakes up. And he comes out swinging. I don't know what he does in there, put it puts and end to things for a good few hours, at least."

Mischa laughed and put out a hand. "Here, let me feel."

I took her hand and guided it to the place on my stomach that felt like a small dominance fight was erupting inside. After a few moments Mischa pulled her hand back, smiling.

"I don't know," She told me, "I think that's a big sister in there, putting her brother in his place."

I rubbed my belly, and smirked. "Could be," I admitted. "She probably takes after her mother."

Mischa laughed again, taking the spoon from her mouth, lollipop style. "Spirits save us, I hope not! What kind of beast would SHE fall in love with, and bring home to the pack?"

I grinned at the mention of Lucian, the dominant and powerful Lycan I'd accidentally mated and brought back to my purist loup-garou family. An introduction that had nearly turned fatal. Perhaps not the happiest of memories, I suppose. But it had turned out well, in the end, and if Mischa, of all people, could joke about it with me now, things must be looking up.

At least, I hoped so. A sudden seriousness fell over the both of us, and I set my empty spoon back down on the counter. Mischa pursed her lips knowingly.

"Still no word?" She asked softly. I shook my head no.

"Nothing since yesterday morning." I tried to keep my voice neutral, and free of worry. But Mischa leaned over and took my hand.

While a day, or even two, without contact might be no cause for alarm with regular couples, it is different for our species. A mate bond between wolves is forged physically and mentally, and to a degree, the mated pair become telepathic with each other. It's like being aware of another consciousness in the back of your brain, having access to the other person's feelings and state of mind, and being able to share thoughts when needed.

But that part of my mind had been blank for nearly twenty four hours. And while there were completely harmless reasons that Lucian would have shut off his end temporarily, my mind couldn't help leaping to the most horrifying possibilities.

Lucian had left the pack's stronghold in the Alaskan tundra to return to his own small army of Lycan troops, and disband them. The war between the Children of Corvinus, Lycan and Vampyre, was now over, and the men Lucian had enlisted and turned were left without a purpose. For a few years he had kept them busy hunting down the last members of the vampyre council that had kept them enslaved all those centuries ago, but now that, too, was finished, and it fell to Lucian to set his men free while keeping them from exposing themselves to humans and/or going on a rampaging, pillaging spree.

I honestly had no idea how he planned to accomplish it. But then, with a pack of hundreds to lead and a belly of pups to care for, I had my own plate filled to overflowing. My relationship with Lucian had begun to resemble nothing so much as that of a marriage between monarchs of seperate countries. Countries that didn't get along very well, at that.

I felt Mischa squeeze my hand in hers, and pulled myself away from my brooding. I gave her a reassuring smile, and squeezed back.

"So," I began, "When will you an Riordan be adding to the pack?"

Mischa blushed and turned away, and immediately I wished I had bitten my tongue.

As a recently mated pair of reproductive age, Mischa and Riordan were under a lot of scrutiny already. Our species' numbers had begun to dwindle, and children were considered precious by the entire pack. And I knew they had been trying. Fruitlessly. My bringing it up would be rubbing salt in a raw wound.

I set my jaw, and promised myself not to mention it again, until Mischa had news she wished to share. I knew she felt it was some kind of personal failure on her part.

I had another theory. For nearly a year, after I'd gone away to college, Mischa had found herself in the role of the Alpha's mistress. My uncle, Matthias, had held the position of packmaster in trust for me, until my coming of age. And a vicious sonofabitch he'd been behind closed doors.

Being the Alpha's favorite was considered an honor, and in public Matthias was gracious and loved. So Mischa suffered in silence, and her fast-healing werewolf body hid the scars.

Still, I was certain that that kind of prolonged, repeated trauma would have some ill effects; perhaps mentally as well as physically. I made a mental note to ask Ashai, the pack's healer, to check in with Mischa.

The sound of bare feet on stone echoed to us from down the hall, and we both looked up to see Jori round the corner. She looked shy and still half-asleep, and somewhat embarrassed. No doubt because my sneaky ninja-skills had failed to wake her when I got out of bed. She and the other girls fancied themselves my caregivers and protectors, a role honored by time and tradition in the pack, when the Alpha female was sick or with child. I gave her a small welcoming smile.

Jori reached up to brush her sleep-snarled brown hair out of her eyes, and I finally noticed the object in her hand.

I held out my hand wordlessly, and Jori dropped the cell phone in my palm. She turned around promptly and headed back to bed, but a sudden dark sense of foreboding curled in my gut. I lifted the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I said, making the greeting a question.

A voice that was both familiar and sickeningly foreign answered me, with four words that chilled my bones.

"Is this the widow?"

* * *

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